Legends Of The Four I: Flames In The Darkness
by Aira Slytherin
Summary: To each other they were nothing but means to an end. But when, in the wake of an ancient force, everything is put on the line, by fate's greatest irony he's the sole who can save her - only if he gives in to the Power he knows not... LV/OC
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: Ok you guys, I don't own anything, except the characters you don't recognise - they definitely are my property, the rest belongs to J. K. Rowling, so don't sue.

**Warning!:** HBP-compliant, and ignores fully the events of DH - as in no Deathly Hallows and all that jazz, sorry guys but it just didn't cut for me. Spoilers for all books ahead!

A/N: The prologue and the rest of the story take place before the books. I'll specify the year in the each chapter, if it changes.

Rating: T for some violence, mild sexual references, and character death in later chapters.

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Prologue: In The Eye Of The Pyre

1940

It was as if fire had burst in the sky above. The rays of the dying sun had become an amazing mingle of scarlet, gold and surprisingly, a slight silver. Yet, it was the red that caught the attention of the tall man with long dark brown hair and beard and a crooked nose, on top of which stood a pair of half-moon shaped glasses. The colour made his otherwise light-blue eyes seem deep purple, looking unearthly, mysterious.

Blood-red. That colour had always been a bad omen - especially in the wizarding world, to which he belonged. But, Albus Dumbledore was not that easily scared. Many believed him to be one of the most powerful wizards of the time, rivalled only by the Dark Lord Grindelwald. Yet, now, as he was standing by the top window of the Astronomy tower in Hogwarts, he couldn't help but shiver at the strange sensation of danger and death, which the scarlet colour of the sunset had awakened in his heart.

He shook his head to clear it of the dark thoughts. No, this wasn't the time to be dwelling on omens and superstitions, be they wizarding or not. He swept his gaze down on the school meadows, where several students were still chasing each other by the lake. He recognized three 12-year old boys, who he thought he knew. Well, saying that actually didn't mean much, because these three guys were each an endless universe and it was too difficult even for him to ever get to know them completely. At least, it was true that he knew them reasonably well, as they were his students.

They weren't exactly friends, but it didn't stop them from being close and reliant on each other. Dumbledore smiled - yes, they were indeed unique! He watched with a slight smirk as Abraxas Malfoy - a boy of medium height, with almost white blond hair and grey eyes jumped nearly a metre in the air, when Orion Black's short dark-brown hair and chocolate eyes, together with his stern features and respectful muscles popped suddenly out of the lake. At that point the last of the three - Tom Riddle, swept his longish jet-black hair away from his face, his coal-black eyes glittering, as an inevitable laughter made his handsome features even more pronounced. His clothes could hardly disguise his finely toned body - actually quite well-built for a 12-year old. No wonder he was one of the most popular guys at Hogwarts among girls of all ages. And the same could be said about his two companions as well.

The fair sex literary worshiped the three. Abraxas - the eternal philosopher would often indulge in profound discussions on topics, sometimes so trivial, that they'd make most adults laugh. Yet, the female population of Hogwarts listened to him enthralled, not so much by his reasoning, but by his handsome face and stormy-grey eyes. Orion, or as more widely known by his second name - Garth, would always get attention too - mainly through getting himself into a fight and he was mostly admired by girls for his physique. However, Tom, Tom was something totally different.

He looked well older than his age and unsurprisingly was the most popular of the three. Dumbledore knew that if their pride didn't stop them, many girls would just throw themselves at his feet. Abraxas had their minds and Garth - their eyes, but Tom possessed their hearts, yet he didn't notice them, he didn't care. They called him 'The Ice Lord'. For no Hogwarts girl could ever touch _**his**_ heart.

The word itself startled Dumbledore. 'Lord', was this a sign? A beginning towards a possible future he had seen that day, when he had first met with Tom in the orphanage? He again shook his head. No, this was a mere possibility, not a certainty or a fact!

The sun was setting and as the day was dying the adult wizard couldn't help but feel a bit dazed. Tiredness, seemingly, was finally taking its toll on him, as he suddenly found himself transfixed by the crimson sunset. He blinked a couple of times to try and clear his mind and gaze from the weariness. Strange, he thought, the sun now looked more like a raging fire, the colour of blood. Dumbledore was startled, it simply couldn't be…

…There was a man in the centre of the fire, a man Albus and many others knew all too well these days. Grindelwald. Yet away from prying eyes - to the Hogwarts Professor, this same man was more than just a fearsome name, or a defeated nemesis. Because, despite the ruin he had left behind nearly a century ago, he was cursed to perhaps forever think of him as simply Gellert...the only one who knew his deepest self, the very core of his heart - and who, ironically enough, had turned out to be unable to mirror it within himself. Gellert...who would never be his...

And yet it wasn't him in way. Gone was the starlit gold of his rather wild tresses, as they were now tinted strawberry-blond - akin to bathed in the fire of the setting sun. His eyes were all of a sudden a pair of blazing pits and he had around him a distinct aura of some unearthly power, something not of this world…He turned to his side and extended a hand to someone Albus couldn't see yet. However, mere seconds later another, a hand slipped in Grindelwald's outstretched palm, a hand made of flames…

Dumbledore just stood there watching, unable to move at all - whether by reason of what he was seeing in itself or because of the bitter feelings of 'if only' that the sight stirred he did't know. Still, a mere moment later, the other person finally became clear and the old wizard couldn't help but gasp.

It was the figure of a woman, her whole body - as if made of fire. She turned her gaze first to the man next to her and her extraordinarily beautiful face lit up with something strangely akin to joy. Then, she averted her eyes to the unwanted witness. Two burning embers fixed on Dumbledore's shocked face. He watched, as they suddenly twisted from crimson into dark-blue and the flames slowly died around her, leaving her long, blood-red hair flowing in the slight evening breeze. Her smile became an almost feral grin, while the wind carried her decidedly cold voice to the Hogwarts Transfiguration teacher, "The past is not forgotten… Judgement is yet to come…"

In that instant, Grindelwald took her in his arms and they dissolved into nothingness, leaving Dumbledore completely dumbfounded and seemingly in a trance… But then he snapped quickly out of it, when an owl flew so close, that it almost knocked him in the face. Dumbledore grabbed it just in time before it hit him. He quickly took the piece of parchment attached to its leg, read it in one breath and went down the stairs of the tower so fast that he nearly knocked Professor Slughorn off his feet.

"Albus, what's the rush about", asked the Potions Master totally out of breath, since they had collided quite painfully. "I'm really sorry, Horace, didn't mean to, but, you know, the time has come!" The smile on the Transfiguration teacher's face widened even more. Slughorn nodded in understanding. "I remember…" he then swept Dumbledore in a hug so tight, that the latter felt as if being strangled by a bear "Congratulations, my friend! So she's born already?"

"Not yet, but she's on her way."

"Then what are you waiting for - run!" and Slughorn gave Dumbledore one more bear hug and almost pushed him through the door, smiling at him wholeheartedly, while Dumbledore indeed ran as fast as he could towards the nearest exit from Hogwarts.

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The Berlin Wizarding Hospital, or the BWH for short, was unusually full that day when the same man - Albus Dumbledore, tried to make his way towards the maternity ward. There were wizards and witches everywhere, which was strange indeed, but the Hogwarts Transfiguration teacher had no time to stop or look at them, let alone to talk and find out what was wrong. He passed quickly a group of very miserably looking warlocks and in one breath climbed the stairs to the ward for future mothers.

As he pushed the door open, he suddenly froze at what he saw and a smile drew slowly on his face. There was his family, all of them gathered around the small bundle, which Selene, his brother Aberforth's daughter-in-law, tenderly held cuddled in her arms, her beautiful face shining with happiness, as was that of the happy father - Friedrich, Albus' nephew. Aberforth and his wife Estella were smiling down at the infant, caressing lovingly her cheek and brow. The great-uncle approached slowly that warm scene and it was then that the rest finally noticed him.

They lifted their eyes up to him, and he suddenly felt an unbidden shudder at the icy look his brother gave him. And though the older Dumbledore knew perfectly they had agreed to keep up appearances, as if nothing was amiss between them, at least in front of the others currently present, the hidden hostlity was still there. However, none of the rest noticed their exchange, so he approached nonetheless.

Selene gently gave him the baby, and Albus took her with inexperienced hands so carefully, as if she were made of crystal. She had the loveliest eyelashes - long and fine and when her heavy lids lifted, a pair of dark-blue eyes met his own. But when he caressed the infant's little forehead, the blanket in which she was wrapped, fell back slightly and revealed the blood-red ends of her already growing hair.

The old cold hand gripped his heart again, as the frightening vision from before flashed once more in front of his eyes. The little girl had suddenly started crying, as if having sensed her great-uncle's dark premonitions. He tried to clear his head of these thoughts, they were so inappropriate for such an occasion, but in vain - the sensation was still there, stronger than ever. He gave the baby back to her parents, as terrible possibilities ran through his mind.

'Is it her? Is she the one to bring our end? Her and _**Him**_...' He shook his head, it couldn't possibly be, he was probably too tired and wasn't able to think clearly. To chase away the lingering darkness, he asked them, smiling "Have you already picked a name?" Selene and Rick answered back almost as one, their eyes glittering with pride. "Laura. Laura Victoria Snape."

The older Dumbledore brother gave the new parents a smile, which however didn't reach his gaze "Why do you two insist on this charade? I would never understand your attitude towards our family name – is it so horrendous that you refuse to use it, and prefer this…ah…rather unusual one instead?"

Rick couldn't help rolling his eyes "Honestly Uncle I would have thought – considering those renowned brains of yours," here the young man didn't bother hiding his sarcasm "that it's pretty obvious. Given mine and Selene's profession, mum's maiden name provides us with all the anonymity we need – and I'm sure second cousin Tobias won't object. Much. If by any chance he ever found out, that is."

Before his addressee could retort however, an owl had flown in and landed on the mother's bed, right next to the baby. Aberforth picked the letter it was carrying and the bird, as if chased by fire, flew out as quickly as it had entered. The letter itself bore the crimson and black stamp of the German Ministry of Magic and everyone found themselves exchanging rather puzzled looks – what would they want with them in this particular time? Surely, they couldn't be calling back either of the young couple yet...

There was a general bewilderment for several moments, before the envelope, after having passed through everyone else's hands, had finally reached Selene's, and to the others present's surprise, her initial astonished expression melted into a happy smile. She quickly opened it and read out aloud:

_Dear Mr. and Mrs. Snape,_

_Following our records, your daughter must already be born. According to the Ministry data, she is half-German and thus, eligible for all programs of the German Ministry of Magic, as well as those of the Institute for Magic Durmstrang._

_Therefore, we are pleased to inform you that, according to our monitoring methods, she possesses very pronounced potential (actually the greatest we have seen in years) for becoming one of Die Wählen – the most elite special squad in the whole wizarding world._

_Whether she attends Durmstrang and participates in the special unit and its separate educational programs is left entirely to your choice, due to the girl's mixed nationality. If you wish to enrol her, send us an owl as soon as possible._

_Sincerely Yours,_

_Gertrud Werder_

_Senior Monitoring Officer_

_Department of Expansion and Development of Human Resources_

_German Ministry of Magic_

"They want our child for The Chosen!" came the decidedly excited exclamation of the young mother. Everyone else seemed to be sharing her thrill and Albus wasn't surprised. With both of her parents being Durmstrang alumni, and present Chosen themselves, of course they were going to be proud – and they wouldn't be at all against a continuation of what had recently become a family tradition. Aberforth had some doubts as to the nature of the studies actually being entirely suitable for his granddaughter, but he fully supported the parents' decision that the infant would one day be part of the elite officers.

But that strange sensation was still plaguing the Hogwarts Transfiguration teacher, and he couldn't resist voicing his concerns "I don't mean to question your judgment" he turned to the young parents "but I would really like to ask – are you completely certain about this? I mean, Laura could as well attend Hogwarts. It won't be a problem to quash all the possible favouritism rumours, which, I suspect, may arise from me teaching there." Contrary to expectation, though, it was Aberforth who answered, a subtle note of warning creeping in his tone, his narrowed gaze belying his calm words "Brother, if I didn't know you, I wouldn't ask - what bothers you?"

'_Say it uncle, you don't need to hold it back - we won't be offended.'_ he heard Rick's thoughts projected in his head – the legacy of a lineage their family had hidden for generations. The elder Dumbledore sighed. How was he going to simply state to the young couple that their newborn child could be the bringer of death and destruction?

Even worse - how could he ever hope to patch relations with his brother, if he even so much as suggested something as outrageous? And then there was the possible role his old...friend...could turn out to be playing in the whole mess as well - and given the past, any such news were sure to guarantee him disaster from his remaining sibling's hands, and wand (and though few knew it, said man was one hell of a duelist - who loved fighting dirty).

He braced himself "I don't know how to start - but I might have had a sort of premonition. I do not claim to possess the powers of the legendary Cassandra Trelawney." his eyes glinted with humour behind the half-moon shaped glasses. "However…either this little one will be in great danger in the future, or she herself will be entangled in the events that are going to bring about such life hazard to others."

He promptly stopped to observe their reactions. To his surprise, however, they were nothing he expected. Selene and Rick both started discussing how to protect best their baby, the concern more than evident in their rushed whispers. Este was as worried as any grandmother would be, and Aberforth was trying to calm her down and soothe her fears.

No one seemed to pay attention to the subtle remark, that the infant could in the future herself be the bringer of death. And thinking about it, he decided that it was maybe better this way - they were worried enough already. He sighed again, not heard by anyone. This was going to be hard, he would have to lead the fight against this… this…oh, for goodness sake, she was just a baby! He was really losing it, he thought. This, no doubt, constituted the problem - there were no scenes of the future, just his aging brain's twisted visions. Get a grip Albus, he scorned himself.

"But why would Grindelwald want Laurie - she'll never join him, we'll see to that!" Este was, as always, a bit detached from the wizarding world, yet it was normal. A muggle background usually meant none or very limited knowledge and experience of the 'other world'. She was, though, one of the lucky few, who in the whole history of magic, had ever been fully admitted to it and to some of its secrets.

"Now that he's at large again, it's just a matter of time before he tried to come after me and Selene. The Department is working on it, but no one can be certain when we'll be able to bring him down for good." Friedrich explained, his voice carrying absolutely no trace of fear for himself, only worry for his loved ones.

"That's true." the young witch confirmed "No matter that it could take him ages, when he finally learns who Scarlet Shadow and Fire Heart really are, we won't escape persecution to either recruit or kill us." And all knew that she was completely right. Once Grindelwald discovered the true identities of the German Ministry's two best Chosen, it wouldn't be long before they headed his 'to destroy' list. There was only one option left.

"You need to go into hiding. I'd suggest we use the Fidelius Charm." the older Dumbledore proposed, his voice trembling with withheld emotions. It certainly was going to be dangerous, not to mention the risk of hiding with a newborn. But they absolutely had to try - they had no other choice.

"Are you sure this is the best decision? I'd say we better try the new spell – the Exsculpo Curse. The results so far are more that excellent." Rick was referring to one of the experimental pieces of magic of the Ministry, which he had quite big part in developing. It was called a curse, only because they hadn't been able to come up with a satisfactory answer, whether there was a difference between it being classified as a charm or as a curse - bureaucratic stuff really. The spell had the power to eradicate any proof of the existence of the person it was performed on, whether magical or normal. With all traces gone, it would be virtually impossible for anyone to ever find them.

"Any known side effects?" asked his uncle in a business-like tone. "None so far, and there is ample evidence that there aren't any at all. Well, that is, if we exclude the fact, that it would be tremendously difficult to restore the affected person's existence for in front of the world."

"I don't think we should worry about that yet." added Estella and Selene nodded in agreement. Once they were safely hidden, the problem of coming once more into existence would always be second. "Then it's decided." stated Albus. "We must do it as soon as possible! When the time comes for Laurie to start school there shouldn't be a problem - the Ministry's sensors will know that she still exists, Exsculpo doesn't work on them. Perhaps even by then, Grindelwald would be gone for good…"

Several pairs of eyes met in silent agreement to their war strategy. And as they gathered together for what could well be the last time before the young couple almost literary seized to exist, they knew one thing for sure - the battle for survival was on!

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A/N2: I know it's short, but please, pretty please, tolerate me, huh? And don't forget to R&R of course!


	2. A Circle Of Six

Disclaimer and Rating: See Prologue!

Sunny 724: Thanks for the review, I'm really glad you like it, tell me what you think it is and I'll tell you if you're on the right track! Sorry for making you wait for so long for an update, but I was really busy being my father's secretary in our firm so, I didn't have much spare time. I'll try to live up to expectations but I'm not the most amazing writer in the world as you've probably noticed ;-), still here's Chapter 2!

A/N: To everyone who reads this-Enjoy and remember R&R!

_Flashback_

'Thoughts'

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Interlude

1945. Europe had just lived through a Second World War. The Chosen had fought bravely, both against the Russian invaders and versus the internal enemies of the German wizarding population, led by the Dark Lord Grindelwald. Their numbers highly diminished, as they had lost many from their ranks in the final battle, when Grindelwald was at last defeated. Beside the many tragedies of the continent, however, the family of Aberforth Dumbledore had had their own personal one. Subsequent to it, they moved back to the family estate in Cornwall, England, leaving behind, at least for the time being, their German manor and the country that had become their home. It would be 6 years later, when a member of the family would return to Germany and to Durmstrang and it would take 6 more years and many new pains until her heart would finally start to heal…

CHAPTER 1: A Circle Of Six

1957

"Laurie!" the shriek came practically out of nowhere and Laura tensed for a second then let out a breath. Honestly, what was the problem now! She was almost ready, just a final touch to her school robes and a last glance in the full-length mirror that hung in their dorm and she was flying down the stairs.

"Laura Victoria Snape! If you don't speed up I swear I'll-" Elia Reinchard's angry tirade was cut short by the said young woman's hurried arrival. Laura sighed slightly irritated when she saw her friend stomp her foot in impatience. "Eli can't you keep it down, for Merlin's sake. I was almost done, what's the big deal?" It was Eli's turn to sigh in annoyance, her brown eyes rolling, "Did you forget that we'll be probably LATE for class?" she emphasized on that particular word, knowing that punctuality wasn't one of Laura's strong points. "We've got the new ones, one after the other this morning and those would probably skin us alive, if we're not on time."

Oh yes, now she got it - the new teachers!

Sure, it hadn't been enough fuss last night on the welcoming feast, but the Headmaster Professor Heinrich Van Dyin had just had to add the "merry" news that they would be having some staff changes, as a result of last year's, well let's put it that way, events.

'" I am very proud to announce"' he had started '" that we will be joined by three new staff members. I would like to you give a warm welcome to first Professor Malfoy, who is our new Charms teacher."' at that he gestured to a blond, gray-eyed man. '" Then we have Professor Black, who takes the position for Transfiguration"' he nodded to a well-built man, with short chocolate-coloured hair, '"and finally, but definitely not least, this"', the Headmaster acknowledged a tall, perfectly toned, dark-haired man with pale skin, '" is our new Dark Arts Master, Professor Riddle."' Everyone had given them more than a thunderous applause, because, judging by the looks of them, these three were going to last. Well, at least they looked like people with stamina and resilience was proven by fact to be one of the most essential, if not _**the most**_ important quality, a teacher at Durmstrang absolutely had to possess. Otherwise… ok, let's not think of sad things.

Laura had chuckled at the thought, but had definitely not wanted to spare a second glance to any of the new ones, because her dinner had looked considerably more interesting, while Eli and Verita Gebhern, or just Vera, her other best friend with both of whom she shared a dorm, (seventh year girls were all in dorms of three) had been ogling and goggling at the three men, as if they'd never seen a guy before. Honestly, were they that desperate?

She loved her two friends and they cared for her deeply. They shared a special bond, each of them being an only child considered the other two the sisters she had never had. But did they really have to be that irritating when it came to guys? She had cast a bored look at the staff table noticing that the first two of the recent additions were paying quite the attention to the many girls eyeing them suggestively. The dark one(despite his weird features which looked a bit like a snake's, quite a few of the female students were paying him close attention), however, didn't seem to have noticed all the glances his way at all…

Except the one _she_ had given him there and then. For when her dark-blue eyes had rested finally on him, after quickly checking the other two out, they had met his coal-black ones (she wasn't sure, but she thought she'd seen a slight blood-red tint in them) …and they both had kept eye contact for what had seemed an eternity, until she averted her attention back to her dinner. But even then she could still feel his gaze on her throughout the evening. What was his problem, she thought irritatedly.

She was quickly torn out of her thoughts, though, as Vera gave her sleeve a light thug and all three started off to Charms their first class. They, together with another small group of students had classes separately from the rest of the bunch, being among the select few who were studying and training to become part of the Die Wählen the elite special agents of the German Ministry of Magic. Though, Laura thought, for the other two it was quite the challenge, but it was normal. After all, not everyone in the program went on to actually become a Chosen, but she knew they would all make it in the end.

"Laurie?" Vera had a slightly worried look as she eyed her friend, trying to get her attention from whatever held it. "W-What?" Laura spun to face her, faintly aware that she had been _very_ distracted again. "We're there sweet," Eli chimed in, as she lightly pushed the other two towards the classroom. "Oh," Laura was a bit taken aback. How had they reached it so quickly? But then it dawned on her - of course, they'd been hurrying to _**get there on time**_ as Eli liked to put it, though she suspected her blonde friend was actually a lot more interested in meeting the new teacher eye to eye. Laura rolled her own eyes - it was going to be a _**long**_day.

"Everyone - in please!", they suddenly heard a slightly coarse, but not unpleasant voice and realised with a start that the whole class had already gathered in front of the room's open door and it was the new teacher calling them from inside. Fellow classmate and good friend Lukas Länder winked playfully at the three girls, before making way for them to enter in front of him, a mischievous smile marring his quite attractive features.

The classroom's only change from previous years was perhaps the fact that the new teacher was nowhere to be seen. Several students just looked around in awe, their eyes meeting apprehensively. Lukas and Travis Adams actually shivered. "That's down right creepy if you ask me" said Trevor Atkins the other of the TA-Twins, as he and Travis were commonly known. Truth be told, some thought they also shared one brain, but these were just those who were always reminded about sour grapes.

Lukas shrugged, "He must be _**somewhere**_- we aren't hearing things…unless…"

"Sod off Lukas," Vera poked him in the shoulder "Stop trying to freak us out." He giggled, "Well I take it that the mighty Chosen do get scared after all!" He ducked just in time to escape Elia's fist, which had been quite well-aimed at his nose. "Hey, what was that for! Trying to ruin my irresistibly handsome looks?" The others simply rolled their eyes.

"Fighting on your first day! I'd think it's still a bit early for that, don't you?" Everyone almost jumped. They exchanged startled glances behind the back of Professor Malfoy, who had seemingly appeared behind all of them from thin air.

With a lot of rummaging and noise their class had finally settled down, when the new one turned to them. As he started with the register, no one was paying any particular attention. Eli was still looking for her textbook, which, if she bothered to remember, she had actually thrown under her bed last night in a temper outburst caused by _another_ of Travis' idiotic ideas ("Moron! He does share a brain with Trev."). Lukas and Vera had engaged in a heated argument about "What do you mean quidditch is for kids?" and Trevor was absentmindedly checking his nails.

Only Laura wasn't fidgeting around, but she wasn't listening to Malfoy either…

…_His eyes, deep and green as the emerald pendant shining on her graceful neck, followed her delicate frame, as she was almost dancing in the moonlight. Her soft laughter echoed through the slight mist that was as if a veil thrown to conceal her from him. _

"_Want to join me?" her dark-blue eyes rested on his pale face, as her hands travelled over his chiselled chest and muscular arms. His arms were wrapped around her slender waist, like he didn't want to let go of her ever and she knew he indeed didn't. He smiled at her, his gaze lit up with happiness._

"_You know how bad I am at dancing, couldn't pull it up even on my graduation ball!" She laughed quietly, not caring that his graduation had been more than a hundred years ago. Her fingers caressed his smooth skin, she actually couldn't believe it was so soft. Maybe the blood he had drunk earlier…NO, she wouldn't think about that! There was no fear or disgust, she just didn't want to make him a freak in her own mind, for he wasn't, not to her._

_His hand stroked her cheek, tracing an invisible pattern down the silky skin, as he dipped his face and their lips met. He had one hand wound in her thick scarlet locks, pulling her gently closer to him with the other around her waist. Her fingers tugged tenderly at his long silken mane, the colour of coal, each of them savouring the sensation of the other. It was like they were one being…their hearts so close they beat in unison…She could hear his…wasn't there supposed to be no heartbeat?..._

_As if reading her thoughts, he chuckled, "There wouldn't be in general, but in certain circumstances we do get a heartbeat too." She looked up immediately, meeting his gaze and he could see the surprise, confusion and what seemed like…no, he didn't dare hope…He knew she'd never really feel THIS for him, not with him being a monster. But she had realised what he was trying to say, he saw the comprehension dawn in her brilliant midnight-blue gaze. _

_He loved her… that was the only explanation and she knew it. Suddenly, it all came back to her, one of her first Dark Arts lessons in Durmstrang… 'Vampires can only live again if they truly fall in love. Then and only then, will they feel their hearts beating once more. But for them to stop craving the blood, their One must love them back.'_ _Did __**she**__ love him? No, she truthfully admitted to herself, not yet. But she was falling for him. By Slytherin himself, she was so falling for him…_

"Tarsus…" Laura whispered, painfully aware of the tear slipping down her pale cheek. Right then Vera nudged her gently and she quickly wiped the offending drop off. She had to forget, for her own sanity's sake she had to.

And she was all of a sudden given another very good cause too, as the new Professor had actually started their lesson. For some reason, he glanced at her right after he'd said something, she hadn't really paid attention to. "And I was saying Miss Snape?" he turned to her out of the blue, thank goodness for her good memory.

"That we'll be starting to use wandless magic from now on, Sir." That had been a close call. He actually smiled at her, "Excellent Miss Snape! I expected no less from the school's top student, as Professor Van Dyin cared to inform me." Laura felt slightly uncomfortable. Van Dyin never played favourites and such recognition was rare. She smirked to herself. Maybe the old man wasn't that stuck up after all.

"Indeed we will begin with wandless spells." Malfoy surveyed them all with those unmoving stormy-gray eyes of his and went on, "As you know they are even harder than non-verbal ones and very few wizards actually ever manage to achieve controlled magic without a wand. Still fewer succeed in using it, whether through their hand, or just with their willpower. However, it's a big advantage against every opponent. As I was able to confirm from the records, all of you should be able to attain that level of control over your ability. You are Chosen for a reason so, show me the best you can do! And mark my words, I won't leave you alone until you've conquered your own inner gift. Now get going! And only Charms spells please."

Everyone was nearly bursting with concentration, as they tried and tried most of them in vain to focus their magic just through their hand or mind. Each of them had done it before, many even prior to getting a wand, but it had been uncontrolled, stray bits of magic. Doing it on purpose, with clear mind on it, was unfortunately proving, as the Professor had claimed, much harder than non-verbal spells, which for them had been a piece of cake. Almost literary.

"It's so bloody tough!" Lukas sighed defeated. He leant back in his chair, watching the rest of his friends try. Vera and Eli were in the middle of attempting to set a book alight and had actually got it to catch a flame around one edge, but it had died out too quickly. Malfoy, however, had noticed. "Very well Miss Reinchard and you too Miss Gebhern! Miss Snape," he turned to Laura, whose mind had been away again, "let me see you try." She gave him a wary smile and simply raised her hand, no effort at all was visible on her beautiful face, no strain or nervousness in her gaze. Her eyes just fixed on the large green snake, which crawled lazily in a fish tank near the front of the room. And then an aura of green light formed around the clueless reptile, blowing the tank to bits and killing the animal instantly.

Malfoy had trouble catching his breath or actually producing any, as did many others. Only Vera and Elia did not show such surprise, nor did the TA's or Lukas. The truth was, they had regularly seen Laura perform even more spectacular wandless magic, but she kept it only for inside their circle of friends.

The Professor even shook his head in bewilderment. "Incredible!" he finally found his voice "a truly remarkable display, Miss Snape, but I think I said only Charms spells."

Laura shrugged it off "This was a bit more refreshing, don't you think?" And then, he did the last thing she would have expected from him – he smiled at her, a small, almost hidden smile, but a genuine one and she saw it.

"Unusual indeed, my dear" he said with slight amazement in his voice. Laura smirked to herself – the man surely knew how not to show his emotions, but his otherwise seemingly unreadable façade had just proved it had its cracks. Plus, he was an open book for her anyway – even a small reach with her telepathic powers caught easily the wave of thoughts and feelings oozing from him like a flood: 'Such power…and at her age! She's much more than _he_ had ever expected! Much, much more…'

Laura withdrew and looked him in the eyes – cerulean meeting silver and wondered vaguely who _**he**_ was. Just then Malfoy spoke again "Yet don't you consider that some of your classmates may be frightened – after all Avada Kedavra is an Unforgivable for a reason?" There was no reproached in his voice at all. In fact, Laura could sense barely withheld excitement.

Before she could reply anything though, Sebastian Kessel said aloud what everyone present was thinking "No one in this room fears death. We have seen it – all Chosen have. And besides, there're much scarier things out there…" he smirked at the last one, but otherwise he'd been talking in a completely serious, cool, all-collected tone. Simply stating facts. And that amazed Malfoy even further. However, he managed to hide it well enough and thankfully for him, Laura hadn't been probing his mind again, or she would have seen the dangerous thoughts whirling in it…

* * *

Short brake and the 7th years almost literary had to run to their Transfiguration class, since the ten minutes were less than enough to reach the other side of the castle. The West Wing was its most sombre part and the class humorously thought it befitted perfectly the sulking Professor Black.

And was he moody indeed! It seemed to all of them that the man had never worn a facial expression different than a frown. His eyebrows were constantly drawn together, as if trying to become one unceasing line from temple to temple.

Laura caught a stray thought from Eli, who was wondering how on Earth she had found him attractive the night before and almost chuckled at it. It wasn't loud enough to be heard, but the new teacher had actually perceived the sound and she suddenly found herself face to face with his stern expression.

"Something funny I said Miss…"

"Snape" Laura finished, looking him straight in the eye without flinching "Laura Snape". On her clarification, she could have sworn she had seen his eyes go wide, but it was for a mere moment and he was back to his frown with the speed of light. Wondering at his weird change, she didn't have much time for that, as he was expecting an answer. "No, Sir, it was simply something I remembered." She knew it was a lame excuse, but she wasn't set to start telling around about her abilities.

He, however, seemed to have bought it, at least for the time being, for he returned to the lesson. "As I was telling, before your classmate decided to think of perhaps something much more 'interesting'", the whole class was puzzled at what he was referring to, for none of them had seen or heard Laura do anything so, they just discarded it, "this year and the next Transfiguration will become a lot more complicated, than what you have had in your first 6 years. Not only will we be using wandless magic, but also you will be introduced to the art of Spell Creation. Now tell me, have any of you encountered it before?"

Travis' hand shot in the air and the three girls instantly knew there would be trouble, as he liked to make fun of everything and had almost no respect for anyone with authority. And surely enough, he did it again.

"Yes Mr …" "Adams" Travis said and went on, barely able to hide his smile "that's exactly what your predecessor tried to do."

"Would you like to clarify that please?" Their whole group could tell by the eagerness in his gaze that curiosity had got the better of Black and hoped it wouldn't end as bad as in other cases. For Travis.

"Well", said young man continued "It's just the case that, Professor Holborn was a real enthusiast when it came to creating new spells. And that proved to be the end of him, you know. He had tried combining the Invisibility Charm with Avada Kedavra and well…he hasn't been seen since May this year. And now is September. The 16th…" Travis finished on a seemingly sad note, while the whole class tried hard to suppress their bubbling laughter, as they knew where the half-American with the chestnut locks was getting. Seb Kessel found it impossible to conceal his grin. Thank Merlin, Black had his back towards him!

The professor, on the other hand looked close to worried, but he was hiding it very well "Why would he want such a combination of spells anyway – it's downright bizarre, and why on Earth would he experiment on himself?"

Travis shrugged "I guess the latter was because he needed to know the effect on humans – Invisibility is different for them, you know. And that, you see, is connected with your first question."

Black furrowed his eyebrows more, if that was even possible. Adams was trying his patience and by the looks of it – on purpose. "In what way, Mr Adams?"

"Well, Sir, rumour has it, Professor Holborn was working for those Death Eaters, trying to find them a cleaner way to kill – instantly no body left, when performing Avada Kedavra. But it kind of backfired on him. Plus, he was a weirdo anyway, anyone who'd want your post must be." Now Travis could no longer hold his giggles and neither could the class.

Black, however, wasn't amused in the slightest. In fact, Laura had noticed that at the mention of the Death Eaters he had paled, but had quickly regained his composure. Now that was interesting…

Yet, she didn't have time to consider it fully, as the Transfiguration Professor had eyed Travis with his worst gaze (if only looks could kill!). "What?" the boy asked with a falsely innocent expression "That was exactly what happened!"

"Indeed it is!" Laura joined in. The way Black reacted when provoked was starting to highly intrigue her so, she wanted to see more. The Professor turned first to Travis and said in a deadly calm voice "Mr Adams, for insulting your teacher you shall serve detention for the rest of this working week. Each night, staring tonight. 9pm, my office, here in the West Wing." Travis gulped unnoticed.

"Miss Snape" his eyes fell on Laura again. She had the strangest feeling that they had never left her during the whole lesson so far. "For you, detention will be just one night – this Friday, at 9, in Professor Riddle's office."

Riddle? Why him, she wondered, but decided to confront him with a lighter question first, when she saw him getting suspicious at her reaction. He must have noticed her bewilderment about not doing detention with him and was getting on the defensive, in case she tried to raise the issue. Instead, she asked him "What for Sir?" her eyes containing all her inner strength, her power slightly let loose and she could see him shiver, when their gazes met, at the intensity and force in hers. A true battle of wills, she smiled inwardly.

"For your rude interruption of my class." he stated before quickly averting his eyes. A battle of wills, indeed. And she had just won it.

Still, she could sense what was unmistakably grudging admiration oozing from him till the end of the lesson. And each time she lifted her pair of sapphires towards him, they would invariably meet two, now strangely softer, chocolate-coloured orbs…

* * *

"It wasn't bloody fair!" Vera fumed right after Transfiguration had ended and their group of 6 made their way slightly ahead of the rest of the class towards their next lesson – Gymnastics and Acrobatics. "You didn't laugh at all! For Merlin's sake, me and Trev sat right next to you and didn't hear _**anything**_!"

"True." confirmed Trevor, who was absently holding Eli's hand while they walked and she probably hadn't noticed yet, since he was still unharmed. "You kept it very well. He can't have heard something that wasn't allowed to happen. And especially, not from such a distance!"

"He could have heightened senses." Lukas suggested, but Laura shook her head. "There hadn't been anyone like that for decades."

"Well" Eli joined in "he did look a bit animalistic to me – the eyebrows, the physique, the way he kind of grunts when he talks."

"He could be a werewolf." Travis chimed in too. Vera poked him in the ribs "Honestly Ad, (his nickname from Adams) Van Dyin has let many weirdoes and not exactly reliable, by many people's standards, persons teach in Durmstrang throughout the years. But even he won't let loose on us someone who can eat us for breakfast."

"Maybe he doesn't know Black is a lycanthrophe. Or maybe he wants to see how well we've learnt our Dark Arts stuff." Trevor offered.

"Trev, I don't think a condition like that would get unnoticed past our Headmaster. Plus, though I have to admit he _**does**_ employ unconventional methods from time to time, even he is not that much off his marbles to use such _**highly**_ twisted way to check our knowledge and skills." Laura reasoned.

"Then perhaps he's an Animagus, whose form is an animal with strong senses, like a dog or a wolf." Elia said hopefully. "To be honest" Laura shrugged "the most likely explanation perhaps is that were he to become an Animagus, he'd be such an animal. And that is hereditary in his family. Remember in Transfiguration classes, when they said that a wizard's lineage determines what animal form they would get and they already have the characteristics of that animal.

"Yet, it's not so much Black's blood that is interesting, but his reactions. I was really puzzled that when he heard my name he was truly shocked. The weirdest effect I've ever seen! I mean, why would he even look like that, it's not like I have just said I was a Dumbledore."

"But hon, you _**are**_a Dumbledore." Travis retorted, grinning at his friend and one-time love interest. She sighed "Still, not many know that and I most definitely prefer it to stay this way." He winked at her "Don't worry babe, your secret's safe with me!" Eli smirked "That's exactly what Laurie fears."

"Nah, no one could ever tell you're one of them, anyway, dear. And most of all, you have nothing from that wacky great-uncle of yours." Travis added, while the others tried hard not to laugh, but were largely unsuccessful. "Honestly, that guy gives me the creeps. Your grandfather – now there's a normal man. One would never tell they were brothers, if it weren't for the family resemblance!"

Laura caught her breath from the laughter. "Don't let appearances deceive you Ad – granddad is one of the wizards, who are the most accomplished in all of magic's branches. It's only that not many people know that, either. He likes to keep out of the spotlight – always lets uncle Albus get the laurels. He, on the other hand, I think, sometimes has too many scruples to become really deadly so, don't worry about him – most of the time he's just a slightly crazy old man."

"Only slightly?" Vera asked chuckling "I'd say, it's more of 'really' in fact. And downright creepy sometimes. Remember that smile of his?"

"At least, he ain't sulking all the time like the Black guy." Trev joined in "He looks like he was born with a frown on his face."

"Hmmm…he changed it quite often during our lesson guys, but only for very short periods. When I said my name, then when Ad mentioned the Death Eaters. He looked as if he'd seen a ghost and was just as pale. And after I questioned him for giving me detention, he seemed so…normal." Laura explained to the other five. "Strange indeed, I wonder what's underneath these changes" Trevor contemplated aloud "Laurie did you try to probe his mind?"

"I was just about to, when Mr. Humour here" she glanced at Travis, but he, as well as the others, knew she wasn't angry or upset with him "decided to pull his stunt and landed himself in detention."

"It was the truth, you guys and you know it!" They simply rolled their eyes. "Yeah" said Trev "but for the way you told it, be glad he gave you just five days."

"At least you'll be doing yours with Black, Laurie is stuck with the _**real **_creep – that Riddle" Vera shuddered.

"He's not scary! He's just…intriguing…" Laura interjected, her gaze distant, but with a sparkle in it that hadn't been there for quite awhile.

Eli smirked her trademark smile and nudged the boys, before saying mischievously "Yes, we saw the way you looked at him last night..."

"Oh and don't forget the way _**he**_ was staring at _**her.**_" Vera added "At _**her only**_ to be precise." she went on winking.

"Oh, you lot!" Laura sighed exasperated "I don't fancy him! He doesn't even look completely human, for Merlin's sake!"

"But you find him enigmatic?" Lukas pressed and Laura rolled her eyes "Only mysterious. Just a puzzle I'd like to solve…" she suddenly narrowed her gaze "but which, I think, will prove to be leading only to no good. And for the sake of everyone in Durmstrang, I hope I'm wrong in my suspicions…When do we have his class?"

"Right after lunch."

* * *

Meanwhile, in Whiltshire, England, one of the most prominent houses of the ancient Malfoy family was practically shaking at the anger of its master. Julius Malfoy II, despite his respectable age of 88 – not old at all by wizarding standards though, proved to be quite capable of ground-breaking fury. And once again, the reason was his wayward, in his opinion, only son.

"Abraxas did WHAT!" he shouted and his daughter-in-law Lorna Lestrange-Malfoy cowered before him, despite her greatest efforts not to show any fear and the fact that his wrath wasn't directed at her. Her 3-year-old son Lucius had ran from her at his grandfather's outburst and was currently trembling behind a small table with a large antique vase on it. "He…he…left me…my Lord." Lorna whimpered, having fallen on her knees before her imposing father-in-law.

"How could he possibly do such an outrageous thing! What will the other families think of us, if they learnt about this…this treachery!" Julius screamed, beside himself with rage. "How did you find out?" he bellowed at Lorna, now a bit calmer, but still angry. "He…just left me a note, saying he had done what he had to do, my Lord. I had gone to my brother's manor. He has a baby son, they have named him Rodolphus, after our deceased father. Achilles asked me if I could help him with the child a bit, since, as you know, the mother is still not well after the birth. But I told him that I had to talk to my husband first."

"And that is what every wife should do. The husband is a woman's complete master – that, you must always remember!"

"They have taught me to be the perfect spouse, my Lord." she replied humbly and he smirked cruelly "That is why you married well. Continue!"

"I immediately went home to speak with Lord Abraxas, but our chief house elf informed me that he had left…for good and gave me his note…" sobs rocked her whole body now. Little Lucius, seeing his mother cry, ran on his small legs from behind his cover, to her and embraced her. "Mama, no tears." he cooed, trying to reach her cheeks to wipe them away.

"Boy!" Julius' voice startled him and on instinct the child jumped away from his mother and turned to his grandfather's stern expression. "Women do this all the time so, it is of no use to try and calm them down" the older man continued. "They are weak creatures, less worthy than us men so, any efforts will be a waste. Do not waste _**anything ever**_ on women boy – they are not worth it. None of them is – and you'd better remember that!"

The child gulped anxiously before answered in his still squeaky voice "Yes Sir!" He didn't even spare a last glance at his mother, before he finally embraced fully the code of behaviour and the way of life of the old aristocratic pureblood wizarding families. No emotions would ever be displayed or would hardly ever be truly felt by him, from then on. Feelings had no place in the pureblood lineage and were harshly quashed at the earliest age possible.

"You will stay here from now on!" Julius turned to the still slightly crying Lorna, who returned obediently "Y-yes, my Lord."

"I'll take care of my blood-traitor son." he finished on a dangerous note – a sign for the woman and child before him to retire, which they took immediately and vanished equally quickly from sight.

Once they were gone, Malfoy took a handful of Floo powder from a jewelled box next to the giant fireplace in the room and stepped in the roaring flames, throwing it in and shouting "Black Manor!" He reappeared in a dimly lit living room, decorated in silver and dark velvet and as huge and extravagant as his own. "Kal?" he called "Are you here old friend?" He smiled crookedly, when the prominent figure and handsome face of 81-year-old Kalvin Black came into sight right in front of him "Juls, what a surprise! Or maybe not, considering the circumstances."

"I have an emer…Hang on, is your son missing too?" Kalvin frowned, much like Garth usually did, only his father didn't wear the expression all the time "I should have known that when my good-for-nothing firstborn vanishes, he will not be alone. How long since Abraxas is gone?"

"Two days." Kalvin sighed exasperated "Garth has been missing for the same time, even his brother does not know where they are and my two share everything. And worst of all, he just _**had**_ to do it now – _**now**_ that I finally cornered him and he swore to carry out the betrothal with Larys Carn. I should have had him make an Unbreakable Vow. Or even better - put him under the Fourth Unforgivable!"

"Do you think…" Julius lowered his voice, so that only Kalvin could hear "that _he _has anything to do with this?"

"I don't know what to think anymore. My sources say _he_ has left the country, but where _he_ is and whether they are with _him _is a mystery without an answer."

"_He_ is an idol for them both, Kal, though a dark one – not a God, but a Demon. Yet, our sons still worship _him_. Ever since I realised that, I have cursed the day when they had met _him_."

"_He_ promised them what they could not have, had they stayed here and lived the lives they had been born in – freedom Juls. Freedom, from all the constraints that our lineage, heritage and society put on us all as expectations. After all, _he _does not have to follow such; _he_ could be whatever _he _chooses to be. And they want to be like _him_" Black smiled bitterly "…normal…I don't agree with them or forgive them, but I understand them…and their motives."

Malfoy sighed defeated "So do I old friend…so do I…" Suddenly his eyes blazed with the old fury and he clenched his fists "But that does not mean that I will leave the situation like this!" Kalvin gave him the same crooked smirk, Julius had first met him with "Count me in too!" he said, as they shook their hands.

* * *

He shook his head, trying to clear it of everything. Thinking wasn't his most exciting pastime, but the wizard known mostly as Lord Voldemort, was catching himself contemplating a lot lately, too much, perhaps. Cold, emotionless logic – that was his sole companion for quite the time now, as he had given up on emotions long ago, steeled his heart against them, made it disappear. But still he'd proven powerless to prevent two particular sentiments from reigning in him full force…

Hatred – a slow poison, running freely in his veins, and its objects becoming more each day. His muggle filth of a father and grandparents definitely headed the list. They had always wished more than anything that he wasn't ever 'spawned' - something they had spat in his face together with a whole lot of insults, before he had retaliated with three times a perfectly aimed Avada Kedavra. No regrets, either by them or him. Nonetheless, even dead, he still loathed them as much as could be…

His mother too, the hate for her was too strong. A pathetic creature, too weak to survive, choosing the easy way out, instead of to fight for herself and her son. _**He**_was never going to be this feeble, though. No…he had always been tough, a fighter, even against the greatest odds. Something one Albus Dumbledore had learnt all too well…

'Ah Dumbledore…' A cruel grin formed on Voldemort's face, but it quickly melted into an expression of pure detestation at the mere thought about the man - the object of his deepest, most powerful repugnance. The same one, in whose eyes Tom Riddle had been evil from the start. And it was such treatment that had finally pushed him in that direction. It hadn't been a matter of choice – the world had chosen instead of him.

He sighed bitterly, for bitterness was the only other feeling running in him without restraint. And did he have too much of that one too…It was simply inescapable – the people he had come to know in his thirty years of life had all one by one shunned him away somehow. The man he had seen as his potential father figure had regarded him with suspicion, ever since their first meeting in that sole-degrading hole they called an orphanage. Subtly pushing him away, instead of try to understand and care for him.

Everyone else either sucked up to or feared him, even in his childhood, when he still couldn't control his powers well. But after all, he had still been a child. No one showed any interest in him and his little 'escapades' had been the way to make them _**see**_him, point out to everyone else that he existed. To say it hadn't worked, would be putting it way too lightly – his attempts had always failed miserably, leaving him even more alone, if that was even possible.

And those fools who pretended to be able to discern what happened inside him dared to state, that he knew not love, nor any real emotions. But how could he, when his whole life he had been denied them by everybody? It was, after all, a two-way process and he had realised, that even if he asked for any, he wouldn't be given. So, he just gave up and proceeded to destroy completely his already dead heart and soul. In any case, they had never had the chance to become really alive…

However, what the man now known as Voldemort didn't realise, was that it wasn't too late for him. He was Darkness, embodied by Blood and choice, but what many didn't understand was that darkness did not equal evil. He still had a chance… But he didn't see it, for hatred and bitterness were a lethal combination. They gave him power, purpose, determination, yet also slowly devoured him of everything human, leaving him only with an unquenchable thirst for vengeance against all that had made him who he were. A fate truly worse than death…

And add to that the loneliness – all alone in a world that didn't want him. But he – the best puppet-master, the great manipulator was about to change this and in his favour no less. Simply by continuing with what he was finest at - using his Death Eaters mercilessly, playing on their fears, hopes, dreams and deepest, darkest desires. And employing their money just as efficiently, for his cause. Oh, he had amassed quite the personal fortune for the last 6 years or so, but like every clever leader he did not touch his own wealth, when he could easily enough squeeze that out of his followers.

And they were a fine bunch indeed – none of them that bright or cunning, so as to dare spin their own plans for world domination, which didn't include Lord Voldemort at the head of it all and with all the real power in his hands. Exactly the people he needed – for the time being…

Which was the main reason, he had come to Durmstrang for. He had heard of the Chosen shortly after leaving the employment of 'Borgin & Burks', but it had been very difficult, if not almost impossible; to gather any reliable information on them. All because their secrecy was so tight, that even the best spies, wizards and muggles alike, had never been able to breach it. Thus, intelligence collection had become his other main time-occupier during the last ten years.

He had been recently refused a post in Hogwarts, but in the end it had turned out for the better. Durmstrang had had a Dark Arts vacancy and this had given him the perfect opportunity to meet the potential Chosen and finally get the followers he would need in the future – real warriors, with brains. Partners and not subordinates, yet still loyal to him, for he'd give them what they wanted. Of course, not all would be willing to participate, but he wasn't a master of persuasion for nothing.

One of them in particular was his main target. Rumours, and what little fact he had been able to get, said she had extremely large potential and incredible abilities, having come from a lineage of very powerful warlocks, to which line she was the masterpiece. Laura Snape. Just a name, to which he couldn't put a face, for, he hadn't found any information on her other than that. He smirked to himself – she probably was a nerdy bookworm or an arrogant bitch. If only he knew, just how infinitely far from the harsh truth he was!

He relaxed a bit and leant back in the armchair in his new office. It was large, made completely of black leather and truly comfortable - pure perfection. In fact, he already liked the whole of Durmstrang immensely. And this teaching position was the ideal cover, which would allow him to freely delve deeper into the school's carefully guarded secrets. Durmstrang, unlike Hogwarts, was mostly all explored already, but the answers to its magic's mysteries never left its walls, which made it an even bigger unknown than its British counterpart. And it was definitely worth travelling the distance to learn things much more powerful, dangerous and definitely a lot darker, than anything Hogwarts could ever have.

And it was going to be a lot easier, since no one here asked him awkward questions concerning his looks, origins or past. In reality, no one seemed to care about these things. Not even the Headmaster…

Heinrich Van Dyin was yet older than Dumbledore, but was much shrewder and more cunning than his Hogwarts colleague. Voldemort suspected that his own shady character and past hadn't gone unnoticed by the older man's sharp, perceptive gaze, which had seemed, during their first meeting a month ago, to be boring down to his very soul. Not that he had much left of it with six Horcruxes.

However, the Headmaster had only been interested in his abilities on the proposed subject and his suitability for teaching it. By the former he had actually been astounded, which meant a lot, coming from a former Chosen and the latter he had found quite good. The Dark Lord, being someone able to value worthy people – adversaries or not, had to admit to himself, albeit reluctantly, that he was beginning to truly respect, admire and even like the man. Van Dyin trusted him and as strange as it was, given Voldemort's very low trustworthiness, it meant a lot to the latter. The Headmaster was the first person in his life, beside his two associates, who had trust in _**him**_ of all people. It somehow touched him despite his usual lack of feelings.

In fact the Dark Lord had wanted to get to know the man better – a wish granted easily by their talk the night before, during the welcome feast, though it had mainly been Van Dyin telling him about the school, the students and in particular, the future Chosen he was going to teach…

…_He had been listening closely to the Headmaster, even though he didn't look like it. Most of the time, even when Van Dyin had presented him and the young people on the eight tables facing them had applauded enthusiastically, genuinely welcoming their new teacher, he had kept his gaze on the opposite wall, at the end of the huge hall. Of course, he had felt the many eyes on him, but he didn't care – they all meant nothing._

_The Headmaster had stopped talking, presumably to take a bite out of his deliciously looking goulash, and Voldemort finally decided to get a glance at them, out of curiosity. And as he averted his eyes to the sea of students, among the bunch of all shades of brown, black and blond in the hall, he saw __**her..**_


	3. Scarlet Vision, Touch Of Black

Rating and Disclaimer: If you're so interested in them, you'll find them in the prologue.

A/N: Enjoy a lot – I apologise truly if it is too narrative, long and boring and I hope I've written Voldemort in character! Still, you know what to do after you've finished reading-R&R that's it!

'Thoughts'

_Flashback_

* * *

CHAPTER 2: Scarlet Vision, Touch Of Black

…_It had been hard to __**not**__ catch a glimpse of the mystery young woman's long scarlet tresses. __At that very moment she lifted her gaze upwards, as if having sensed his eyes on her…and coal-black met midnight-blue. __Only to nearly recoil at the bone-crushing pain regarding him out of their depths. __A woman he had thought of her as, and she was one indeed. Not a girl, not anymore. A real young woman, mature in body, as well as mind. Her frozen features held bitter wisdom and experience. And that pain – he could almost feel it physically and wondered, despite himself, what she had been through to leave her with such scars, invisible, but still as deep as could be._

_He tried his strongest Legilimency for a split second, but nearly jumped back in his chair at the powerful repelling, she met his intrusion with. Remarkable, he thought, she had the most potent mental shields in his whole experience, which said a lot. Not even he had such and he was probably the most accomplished Occlumence alive. Now, he could also see, behind everything else in her gaze, her inner strength. Merlin, even just the power of her look felt like it could crush him._

_At that moment she averted back to her plate and when her navy-blue left his onyxes he had the strangest sensation – loss, emptiness. Yet he kept his gaze on her, for he somehow couldn't turn it away, as if he was still looking in her two pools the colour of indigo…_ "_Already captivated by our Queen, I see." Van Dyin interjected, smiling and Voldemort had to reluctantly take his attention off the fascinating redhead. "Queen?" he asked aloud, confused, but right after that murmured to himself, as his eyes invariably fell back on her "Not just a Queen – a true Goddess in fact…" he trailed off, as if in a trance._

_The Headmaster had seemingly noticed his not paying attention to what he had replied to the Dark Lord's question, since he friendly tapped him on the shoulder, unwittingly startling the younger man and making him turn so fast, like a wasp had stung him. "Sorry," Voldemort apologised "you were saying?" Van Dyin just sighed knowingly _"_I was in the middle of explaining about the title." _

"_So, it is a title?" the younger wizard asked slightly puzzled, and his companion added "Indeed it is, but not awarded by a select few. Instead, by long-lasting, unwritten tradition, the Queen of Durmstrang is named by the school's staff and students alike. Through living and working together, they might, or equally might not, notice a young lady possessing certain qualities. Beauty – perhaps, but it is by far not the main one. Yet if, through her good heart and character, openness and friendly, genuine treatment of others, she manages to honestly win their hearts, one by one they start calling her with the title. Sometimes even those who hate her do, and by this latter we know a true Queen of Durmstrang. And she" he nodded towards the redhead, smiling gently "is definitely one."_

_Voldemort listened mouth agape – that was extraordinary! Their way of thinking, the whole philosophy of life of the people here completely amazed him. They were really unique… Now he knew for sure that his decision to come to Durmstrang had been the right one, for he was indeed going to find here exactly what he needed. And he already knew who was to be his first recruit - Laura Snape was so going to wait!_

"_Why a girl, though?" he tried to clarify his other puzzlement. _"_Ah, not a girl, my friend – we are looking for a woman." was Van Dyin's simple reply, a smile playing on his lips "And why – well, it is quite simple. Women are our better halves; they were and always will be those, who command the only true power – that of creation. As condemned as they have been, by the muggles and some wizards alike, in past centuries and still are today, they are the only worthy beings in this life and the next. And the greatest treasure is in fact held in the fragile hand of a woman – all the happiness, joy and love that weave the world._

"_The Queen is usually not seen at an early age, since then they all are still children – girls, who know not life and pain. But our present one, she happens to be the youngest chosen ever – in her 5th year. Yet, with what she had been through, I am not surprised, not at all…" there was barely tangible fatherly affection in his voice._

_And somehow the Dark Lord found himself wanting to learn more about her, to know __**her **__more. He sternly told himself that this strange feeling, he couldn't explain - this new drive, was merely curiosity, plain and simple and need to discover more, in order to recruit her quicker. But deep, down inside, whatever human still remained in him was loudly shouting back that what he tried to convince himself now was nothing, but one huge, bitter lie…_

…And right then, the bell announcing the beginning of the first period after lunch unwittingly took out of their reverie both the 7th year Chosen class, waiting outside and their new Dark Arts and Defences teacher in the classroom. Voldemort hadn't noticed how quickly the hour-and-a-half break had literary flown by. In fact, he would have completely forgotten he had a class, if it hadn't been for the said 15 or so young people's entry and swift settling-down. Till then, he hadn't looked at them yet, but what happened next really made his day…

* * *

Looking up to have a good glance at his class, the Dark Lord's gaze almost popped out of his head. For, it met a familiar pair of azure eyes, belonging to a certain scarlet-haired, young woman, who happened to be sitting on the third row of desks. She was amongst a group, he'd seen around her the night before – presumably her closest friends. With the speed of light he hid his pleasant surprise yet, the small smirk her coral lips formed at the same moment, told him clearly that his change of mood, perhaps may have gone unnoticed by the bulk of the class, but _**she**_ had seen it. Feeling unexplainably uneasy from that revelation, Voldemort successfully, however, regained his stance and cold insensitive exterior.

He swept his calm but empty, almost dead coal-black look over the class. So there they were – his future partners, his elite. Oh, he'll teach them well, prepare them like no other could, in the meantime poisoning their young minds with visions about dreams come true and desires fulfilled. He would do what he did best – use them, with fitting rewards of course, leaving them certain autonomy, but use them still. For only a true master of manipulation, like him, could weave deception over people such as these here, who had brains, as well as guts. And in the end they would be his without even realising it, free yet, captive. Doing whatever they pleased, if it wasn't against him, but also doing his bidding, when the witless creatures that made his Death Eaters were inadequate for the task. Splendid indeed!

He noticed that many who now had the chance to have a closer look at him, than they could the previous night, had the expressions of someone, who had just seen the face of Death, but it was normal. A slight trembling here and a vague trace of fright there were nothing new. However, by contrast with everyone else outside Durmstrang, who had ever looked him in the eye, all the Chosen, past and future, he had already met, including the ones present, had collected themselves in hypersonic speed. The fear and shudders were gone in a heartbeat.

Voldemort fixed his glance on _**her**_ again, catching himself doing it more often than was good for him. Yet something powerful inside pulled him back to her every time his eyes tried to stray in another direction – just like the night before, at the feast. She hadn't flinched even the slightest, when their looks had met at the beginning of the lesson. This and Abraxas and Garth's timely reports, concerning her magical and observance abilities, as well as her excellently-working mind and courage, cemented the Dark Lord's impressions about her from the previous night. There was such strength in her, both wizarding and personal, that made him doubt that even he – one of the most powerful wizards of the time, would be able to counter it. Unless, he put to use his own secret gift, which wasn't without its own risks.

And an unbidden thought started eating at his insides – one that made _**him**_ shiver inwardly and he didn't like it one bit. The mighty Lord Voldemort, who had left an endless list of corpses after him, experienced for the first time ever an alien emotion, even though it quickly faded – fear, fright that he had finally met his match (too bad his two associates had forgotten – completely unprofessionally – to tell him her name).

Laura, on the other hand, had not been fazed at all by his constantly unmoving from her eyes, but was nonetheless relieved when, five minutes after the start bell, he finally began the lesson. "Believe it or not, I actually am of those few people who _**like **_the Dark Arts and aren't repulsed by the mere mention of the subject. Besides, from what I was kindly told by our Headmaster, you lot are quite adept to them too. So, I gather that the benefit of me being your new Professor will be mutual. If you wish to learn, you are going to – all you have to do is ask. And you shall be given…knowledge. But the question is do you want it?" he looked at them all in one swift motion and a wholehearted 'yes' was heard from the entire class, Laura included – for, _**she **_undoubtedly had the will to learn…

Visibly pleased, Riddle, tearing with effort his eyes from her, turned to the middle of the classroom to get the attention of everyone – needlessly, for he already had it in full. "Today we shall start dissecting a subject, which you have not, as I was informed, with the exception of your 6th year, covered completely – namely, the human soul." Laura's group and in fact everyone else too, awed delightedly, as they adored the topic. Laura, however, was more interested in why Riddle chose it in the first place. She studied his strange snakelike face – personal experience, perhaps?

"A person's soul, or life energy, as you probably already know, is an essential part of almost every branch of Magic. It was one of the first things studied by wizards, ever since very ancient times. And, naturally, it plays a huge role in the Dark Arts – the undoubtedly oldest Magic there is." It definitely had been a piece of cake ('Terrible association.' Laura thought, as she hated sweets) for him to get their full concentration in place for the lesson. He was a master of the art, Laura mused, while the rest practically had their mouths open, a real enticer with plenty of experience in the field. And, if only for that, they all had to be extra careful around him…

Voldemort himself was indeed really content with the effects his words produced with the usual ease. "The human soul, in the Dark Arts" he went on "is subject to 3 main activities. Can you, perchance, tell me what they are?" Many hands shot confidently in the air, but the last, which had also been the least hurried, intrigued him the most.

"Yes, Miss…" he turned with a hidden, surprisingly for him, but not at all welcome, genuine smile towards the scarlet-haired beauty. "Laura Snape." the words hit him like Avada Kedavra – as hard and unexpectedly, as could be. Laura Snape. So that was her - his planned most powerful ally. The charismatic, gorgeous, young Queen of Durmstrang. The one, who seemed able to seriously crack his icy façade with a mere glance. His match, indeed. He kicked himself inwardly – he really shouldn't have been surprised. A true masterpiece, but of flesh and blood – one, which only man and nature, when working together in harmony, could create. It took him what seemed like eons to regain his collected expression. "Go on." His voice went out coarser, than it had been only moments ago.

Laura was taken by utter puzzlement this time. Not even Black had reacted this way at her name and Riddle, she had noticed, was much better at hiding these things. But he had lost it and for longer than anyone of his skills would have let themselves. So she put it in the back of her mind to probe his psyche, at first opportunity. Unnoticed, of course, but for the time being, she went on with the question "Well, let's see, if I recall correctly, we're talking about possession, imprisonment and" she took his gaze with hers to observe his reaction "extraction." And it pleased her endlessly to see the slight, almost non-existent, nervousness, which had occurred in the depths of his onyx orbs – he was good at hiding, but she was equally skilled at looking. Plus, her guesses were correct – Professor Riddle had had a good, in-depth previous dealing with the subject, which could explain his weird face. Still, she wanted to be sure in her conclusion for the source of this change, so she continued observing him closely.

The Dark Lord had, thank Salazar, successfully held back a flinch at Laura's on-target remarks and knowing, scrutinising gaze. Strange, so awkward in fact, that she could so easily invoke such reactions from him. And stranger still, that in his mind, to him, she was already Laura. Not Snape, or even Miss Snape – just Laura. A really beautiful name – completely fitting for her, not just in beauty, but in meaning too. Victorious. And he couldn't explain how or why he knew it, but he did – that no matter the odds, she could indeed be triumphant in anything, against anyone…

No…He was _**not **_supposed to contemplate such things – so…emotional. Feelings? No way, he denied to himself, they were nothing but simple observations. Emotions were for inadequate people and _**he **_was _**not **_one of them. Chasing away the possible threatening weakness, he faced her in his coldest demeanour "Excellent memory, I must admit." He was, however, taken aback by the equally cool exterior she sported, when she returned nodding "I didn't expect any less." An unfamiliar sting pierced his insides and to his complete confusion, he realised that her icy reply and look bothered him in a way, he had thought impossible. Disappointment…?

No, that wasn't, _**couldn't **_be it. Yet, this meant only one thing – he had to get a grip on himself! He barely knew her, but she was somehow able to influence him, beginning slowly, but surely, to ruin the man he was. The man, that he dared not admit, even to himself, he was faintly starting to doubt he still wanted to be…

Laura, at the same moment, congratulated herself – she was on the right track to finding out more about the mystery that was Riddle. Now she only needed to wait – once having lost control, he could perhaps let it happen again, though it was almost improbable. In the meantime, however, she concentrated on what he was saying, which was no doubt extremely exciting.

"The three activities are controlled by two principal means, which are…? Mr…?" he nodded to Lukas, who lost no time, replying swiftly "Lukas Länder. Curses and for possession and sometimes extraction – potions, Sir." he decided to be polite.

"Very good! The Habeallis potion and its 'sister' the Extrahillis draught are two of the most potent concoctions in existence. Extremely hard to brew, as Professor Linecker (that was the Potions and Healing teacher) will doubtlessly demonstrate to you. Habeallis separates the drinker's soul from his body and enables it to infiltrate the intended victim's corpse or living organism, through deteriorating the latter's soul defences. Everyone has them given by nature, at the time of their birth, some people's are stronger than others'. It is possible to weaken or destroy them by other ways too, the rest of which we shall see later in this year. But one of the most dangerous is Habeallis and me, together with my esteemed Potions colleague, will teach you to avoid the risk. For, as you know, knowledge is power…and survival. Victory very often, as well…

"Anyway, Extrahillis is rarely, if ever, used - the curse is largely preferred. The reason being, that brewing the potion is cumbersome and, trust me – infuriatingly long, which makes the spell easier and much more efficient to utilise. However, both the extraction and soul-imprisonment curse, demand much skill and power from any wizard, who wishes to apply them. Thus, not many become able to employ these spells, but you lot should be. Let's start with the curses' names Mr….?" he pointed to Seb, whose hand had hung so long in the air, it was beginning to hurt. "Sebastian Kesel, Sir. The former is Anima Extrahes and the other, Anima Excipius."

"Precisely." Riddle nodded approvingly. "Something else you should know is that the three activities rarely come on their own. Possession is usually also combined with extraction, as the possessor mostly doesn't want to be bothered by the victim, if the latter is still living that is. So, its soul is taken out immediately after the former takes control through possession. And soul imprisonment goes as well with a very important magical invention, which, regrettably, has not been given its rightful place by the renowned minds of the wizarding world."

"Horcruxes." Laura's icy voice unquestionably produced the desired effect. Voldemort's eyes shot towards his intended ally, however, betraying nothing, as he gave his best efforts to keep his resolution from moments ago, thus able to finally control his reactions again. His whole outside blank, still his mind was working feverishly. For, the single word that had fallen off her lips told him clearly what she was suspecting and that she knew a lot on the subject already, which explained the quick association she had just made. But then again, she could have simply been having only vague, unproven inferences. Still, he wasn't about to risk and not giving himself away had been the first step. Little did he know that Laura had picked a stray thought, which cemented what had previously been mostly speculations, yet all of them, as it proved, true.

"Yes – Horcruxes. Excellent, Miss Snape." He went on with real admiration, usual cold self or not "I was told, this was the only part of the Dark Arts, concerning human souls, which you have studied. In your 6th year and in depth, is that correct?" he continued, putting on again the all-professional, detached manner, as the class confirmed.

"That is even better." Voldemort added, letting himself look evidently satisfied, but not too much, so as not to raise any more suspicions. In fact, he was quite delighted his prospective new breed of followers was this deep in his favourite magical branch. And the fact that they were doing it at such an early age, proved to him, that Van Dyin and everyone else, who had talked to him about the Chosen, hadn't been exaggerating one bit. Indeed, only exceptionally intelligent and powerful warlocks, whose high talents started showing at an early age, were picked for the special program and eventually – the organisation.

"So, you know that, when making a Horcrux – right after killing the intended victim," – no shock or anything similar at the mention of death – and he couldn't be more glad at that "the wizard's soul is most vulnerable, as killing another human being in cold blood is one of the ways to weaken a soul's natural defences. Only not somebody else's, but your own." he put in with slight humour. "Immediately, Anima Extrahes and Anima Excipius are used – to take out a piece of your soul and lock it in the object planned for a Horcrux, respectively. However, Extrahes here is employed in a combination with another, less often applied curse – Anima Diripium, since you are taking only a bit out and not the whole, as Extrahes does, when cast alone. Very good. On Wednesday we shall practise the curses. Now, are there any questions?" Travis raised his hand first. "Go on Mr..."

"Travis Adams, Professor. Do we exercise on each other, like Dementors?" his voice betrayed slight trembling. Voldemort's lips quirked a bit, but not cruelly "We are talking about the _**human **_soul, Mr Adams, so performance will be on human beings – you understand, that, if used on any other creature, the curses act differently. Yet, don't worry – I shall tell you the counter-spells too, to apply on your partners afterwards. And no, it will be nothing Dementor-like. After all, none of you can invoke in the others their most horrible thoughts and most definitely you will not be kissing," he put in, surprising even himself with the genuineness of the humour "but simply using first your wand and then your mind, to channel your magical force." Travis was almost relieved, almost.

Laura's hand went up next in a calm, completely unbothered way, which slightly angered the Dark Lord. As if she was teasing him, waiting for him to slip again. However, he didn't betray any effect on himself from her gesture and instead nodded invitingly "Yes, Miss Snape?"

Laura could tell by the vague traces of lines on his forehead that she had just 'bothered' him again. "I was wondering, Sir, if there is a way to tell, when a wizard has made Horcruxes for himself?"

Voldemort smiled inwardly, a bit cruelly, though – she was a clever one, he should have expected this particular query. Still, he replied just as indifferently, as she had asked "I was, in fact, just going to get there ('Like Hell you were!' Laura snorted mentally.), but it is good that you enquired first. It's refreshing to be among thinking people." He gave her a cold smile, yet he completely meant the compliment, both for the class and for her personally. The Dark Lord knew a worthy adversary, when he met one; however, since this was a rare occurrence, he valued them greatly. A challenge was always good.

"Indeed, there is a means to recognise such a warlock, but it is in no way a definite proof. It depends on the number of Horcruxes made – the more, the more obvious and of course, it is linked with the person's inner self. You have all heard a certain phrase - 'the animal in me'. Well, its origins have nothing to do with idioms, but everything with a man's soul.

"Each of us is made up of two halves, that, most of the time, co-exist relatively peacefully and more or less in harmony. Some call them Good and Evil. Yet, I find another classification more accurate – Light and Darkness. But beware not to make the mistake of many, to equate one with one and the other with the second. For Light does not always mean Good, just as Darkness does not necessarily equal Evil. They could sometimes - _**not **_always, though.

"Our light side is the offspring of happiness, joy and pleasure, exactly the way our Darkness is born out of the moments of pain, loss and most terrible experiences. However, our own well-being, in most cases, actually means hurting that of others – more or less. And the dark side may be quashed or healed before it leads us further towards the inescapable. Thus, the deeper effects might not even be touched upon." But alas he thought he himself hadn't been so fortunate…

"That Darkness, however, is the 'animal' in every one of us. And it does have such a form. You have covered Patronuses and Demetors three years ago, yet it is a rarely known fact that both are linked to the division of our life-energy into Light and Dark." The whole class listened enthralled, but he was more than pleased to discover that young Laura was doing more than just that – yes, she was truly a major find!

"Dementors are in fact creations of a weaker version of the seldom ever even mentioned Power of Darkness. Some think it a legend, yet it is documented, that Merlin himself was the first to possess it. The gift ran in his line, but was hardly ever used in its entirety. However, it was fully resurrected by the only wizard from the Hogwarts Four, who was his direct descendant - Salazar Slytherin. Of course, the official archives do not have much on him, choosing to instead concentrate on his 'quarrel' with the other three, but there are still a few reliable sources out there, some of which, I had had the good fortune to find and use." And truth be told, he was hoping to find more things like this, right where he was presently. With or without the young people's help, though he definitely preferred it to be with – something, he was going to make sure happened in the end, whatever the means he had to use.

"The power of Darkness itself" he went on, burying his musings "was never completely researched. No one knows its limits or whether there even are any. Control over all dark emotions, ability to invoke them in others by sheer willpower, command over the 'creatures of Darkness', travelling through shadows and even realities are only some of the incredible gifts, it bestows on those, in whose veins runs the Black Blood of Salazar Slytherin."

This was when Laura chose to raise her hand once more and, upon him indicating she was free to ask, inquiring "Are there other Powers like that Professor?" At that question the rest of the class eyed her, as if she were mad, but she gave them a sign she had a particular reason to ask that.

Thankfully for her though, the Dark Lord hadn't noticed the exchange, replying instead "No Power of Light is strong enough to defeat that of Darkness. There is only a similar force, almost as potent as it – Death and another which is equally great…" the one he knew not, but not by his own fault "Love… This latter does not crush a soul's inner Darkness, for it can never be defeated. Instead, it softens it and makes it more controllable, so that it does not take over, but becomes harmonious with the Light again. And the same happens in the case of the Power of Darkness."

At which Laura nodded, satisfied that he hadn't found out about the Four yet, and he continued "Thus, Patronuses, which counteract the effect of Dementors on a person, are a combination of both the Light and Darkness of the caster's soul – a symbol of the fact, that only united, can it be most powerful. The guardians' force comes from the former half, but their form – from the latter, the animal in us. The one that may, yet equally may not, show outwardly in a wizard, who has made himself Horcruxes. Did that answer your first question, Miss Snape?" he added, hoping to have distracted both her and the class from what the query was initially.

What Voldemort didn't know though, was that not only Laura's mind, but some others too hadn't faltered a bit from her true enquiry. Still, she decided to calm any remaining suspicions that she knew about Riddle's little 'experiments'. "Most informative, Professor – thank you!" she said, slightly narrowing her eyes, while giving him a seemingly all-grateful smile. She waited for him to turn to somebody else, who happened to be Dimitry Brandner, to exchange confirming looks with the other five in her group and also with Seb Kessel and Aleia Tern. Something really shady was hiding behind that weird face…

The Dark Lord, for his part, was now a lot relieved – Laura wasn't digging anymore. Instead, she had, like all others, noted down their homework (1500-word essay on the defences of a soul and their properties – to be handed in on Friday) and proceeded to leave as the ending bell rang. He, unable as he was once again to take his gaze off her, couldn't deny though, that on more than one occasion she had got to him and she had known exactly what to do to achieve this result. A true manipulator she was proving to be – exactly like him, and just as clever and shrewd. And with a wandless Avada Kedavra, without any effort whatsoever, at her age, Laura Snape was not just his match – she was his equal. Yet, that last revelation, strangely, didn't bother him as much as he thought it would. He convinced himself it was simply, because he liked a challenge and that was all she was to him. But that traitor voice deep, down inside, as faint as it was, was telling him once more to think again, if he wanted to find the real reason. However, he didn't listen – he never did…

A sudden, feathery-light touch to his pale, long-fingered hand made him look up from his papers immediately. Surprising as it was, it had also been…pleasant, in fact, no human being had ever dared touch him without invitation. However, when two darkened pools of midnight-blue met his dead coal-black, his eyes threatened to pop out of their place for the second time in fifty minutes. Laura…she had _**touched **_him. _**She **_had touched _**him.**_ The Dark Lord couldn't decide which was more incredible…but in a good way. Maybe this very latter was the strangest of all. A human touch, yet not just any human – _**her **_touch…

He shook his head, almost unnoticed, and asked evenly "Can I help you, Miss Snape?" yet lost in her mesmerising eyes again. And totally oblivious, that a longish strand of his thick, soft, jet-black hair had fallen over his left eye. "Yes…" she trailed off in barely a whisper, keeping him in a trace-like state - unable to move or speak, "let me _**see **__**you…**_" And by the time he could react, her long, fine fingers gently but deftly brushed the fallen tendril away from his eye. Then, she sped out and was gone before he could respond, leaving him speechless, paralysed.

What seemed like ages later, but were in fact mere seconds, he ran his own fingers slowly over where hers had just been. The smooth blackness still held the sensation of her stroke, which, closing his eyes, he savoured fully. As if she had made contact with his very soul – whatever was left of it, at any rate. And her words…He couldn't shake off the irksome thought that this might simply be a play – a game, which the manipulator in her wanted to confuse him with. Or did she truly wish to know _**him **_too, equally as much, as he – her? Once more, so unusually, he found himself longing, that he'd be correct in assuming the answer to be the latter.

For, no one really _**knew **_him – many men and women alike said they did, but he knew better. Oh, he had been acquainted with other women before – a man had his needs after all. But Laura…she was different, one of a kind. There was no lust, no primal desires towards her – simply the fact that _**she**_ only was his equal, and just with her could he ever share his innermost secrets, if he chose to.

But he was going to keep it strictly to the primary purpose – making her his ally, using her and the others to gain power. No regrets – and he never had any, in any case. He couldn't he feel beyond hatred, bitterness and thirst for revenge, nor was he about to change that anytime soon. For, even if he was able to truly _**feel**_ and then let himself, both of which were impossible, he still could never have her. Because all he had in him was Darkness and she didn't need more in her life, than he could see in her brilliant eyes already tortured her inside…

* * *

Laura swiftly rounded the corner, where she had arranged to meet the rest after the end. Her plan had been carried out flawlessly – she had been able to get close enough to him, to overcome his mental defences, which had proven too strong to gain access to his mind from a distance. There had been risks, but to her pleasant surprise, none had materialised. Still, the information she was able to get was incomplete and in places, even confusing. Yet, it was better than nothing and she had definitely enjoyed the act. She vaguely questioned herself whether he had already given her detention for her daring performance. However, she couldn't chase away the lingering wonderful sensation of his silken hair under her likewise soft skin. It was as if it hadn't been just an act on her part. Plus, he hadn't realised it was planned beforehand and had actually seemed to take pleasure in it. It had plainly felt so…right. Impossible – that was simply her being silly. Even though she knew perfectly well, that she was never stupid.

"Sweet, what took you so long – we thought something bad happened, you practically gave us the fright?" Elia took in her friend's frown, concerned. "Yeah, hon, what went on?" Travis joined in, equally eager to learn the result of Laura's venture, while Vera and Trev took positions on each of her sides and Lukas eyed her expectantly.

"I managed to get close enough, but his shields are as strong as mine."

"Could he be telepathic like you?" Lukas asked worriedly as he knew what his friend was capable of, and even though she never used it on the five of them, he would have felt really uneasy with another with her gift, loose on them. Laura, however, smiled reassuringly at them all. "Just good old Legilimency and Occlumency, I'm afraid - mastered perfectly. Plus, he can't possibly be 'like me' it runs only in my family and he most certainly isn't one of us. But I couldn't dig out much, clear enough info. All I found out was he wants us as collaborators. In what though – that was…confusing. He already has supporters, but they are seemingly proving inadequate for his purposes. Looks like we'll have to do some intelligence work, gang!"

"Do you think he'll try taking over the castle? And that curses' practice - his presence could be a danger to us all." Travis added, his eyes darkening, but Laura countered "No, not yet at least – he doesn't want to kill, he needs us alive, for our talents and brains. But he'll be 'persuasive', he's going to use deception and our innermost secrets to try and lure us in his grasp."

"He won't succeed." Travis narrowed his gaze, smiling ferally "He's about to see we're Chosen for many reasons, one of which is smelling lies from at least a mile away. We'll defend the school and everyone in here, if need be."

"Precisely." Laura agreed "We'll keep close tabs on him, be careful what he speaks of and what he does or tries to do, we'll warn the others too."

"Not any of the other years! Especially not the Eighters." Vera tried to imply, referring lastly to the 8th-year Chosen, but failed.

"Actually, starting with the 8th year ones." Laura looked at her friend a bit sternly "It's high time you guys began trusting all of them. Leave aside the game-field battles – they will finish. But you'll need these same people one day to guard your back, when you start working together." They nodded, understanding her motives. She was right, after all, they were all Chosen and the petty rivalries were better forgotten, when the school and its inhabitants were at stake. "Do we tell Van Dyin or the other teachers?" Vera chimed in again, but Eli shook her head. "We have to learn to handle situations by ourselves."

"Eli's right – we don't inform the Headmaster or the staff. Besides, for what we know, the other new Professors could well be working for Riddle." Trevor reasoned and the others agreed. "Still, all of you – be extra careful and if it starts getting out of control, we'll tell them." Laura finished, while the group nodded silently. She clenched her delicate hands into fists, which, to an inexperienced observer, would be seemingly harmless, but were, in fact, deadlier, that anyone in their right mind would ever want to find out. Her eyes carried a dangerous gleam "He'll see who the Chosen are – definitely not those to mess with. And if he tries anything…he'll wish he had never heard the name Durmstrang."

Collectively agreeing with their strategy, they all continued down the corridor with direction – the girls' dorm, until Travis noticed that Lukas was sort of daydreaming and caught him just in time not to break his nose, when he stumbled upon a raised stone. "Watch out, you sleepwalker!" Trev snickered and Eli added "It's not sleep I think, but rather someone's fallen head over heels."

"I don't know about head over heels, but he would've fallen _**head first**_ if Ad hadn't caught him." Laura put in, fixing Lukas with a suddenly knowing gaze, having seen his slight blush "So, who's the lucky girl?"

"I don't know what you're talking about." he brushed it aside yet the other didn't buy that. "Come on, you can tell _**us**_." Travis taunted, but right then, a green-eyed blonde passed them in a hurry and he had to grip Lukas' arm to save him from walking in the wall, at a turn in the corridor. "Ah, I see – what's her name?" No answer. Laura raised an eyebrow at their friend, as his uneasiness intensified "Are you serious?"

"Yes, for the Four's sake! All I know is that she's a Chosen – a sixth year." Trev glared at him in disbelief "You mean, you don't even know her name? Honestly man, how sad can you get." Their friend was now practically on pins and needles and Laura took some pity on him "Enough, all of you – leave him alone, _**for now**_. Lukas, when you finally muster the courage and learn her name, you come and tell us." She looked at him mischievously and it spoke loads to the hazel-haired boy. "You know her!" he exclaimed at his friend, almost accusingly "You know her and you won't tell me – talk about friends." he sulked and Laura patted his back, smiling "She's Axel's younger sister – that's all you'll learn from _**me**_. The rest is up to you."

Lukas simply sighed "I'm doomed – an _**eighter's **_sister! He'll gut me with a blunt knife, if he knew – I just _**had **_to be cursed at birth!" And laughing good-naturedly at his antics, they raced each other to the fourth floor where almost all dorms were situated. For the time being, keeping everything in check was simply going to wait!

* * *

The harsh autumn wind, so characteristic for the Island of Durmstrang, blew Laura's navy-blue cloak around her violently, as she stood on the castle's Northern Wall, but the garment's warmth kept her from the chill it brought. She loved the forces of nature - they held such vigour, such energy, that mingling with them, becoming a part of the ultimate creation, really made her feel alive. And she couldn't help wishing that her own fire could ignite once more…If only…How could so much bitter hopelessness be gathered in these two simple words…?

A sudden, almost non-existent, rustle got all her senses fully working and her – completely on guard again. In one swift motion she turned, the tip of her wand pointing straight at the throat of a handsome, young man, with unusually coloured eyes – one blue, one green. "One more moment of you sneaking around and you would've been headless!" she hissed, but then her cold, determined expression gave way to a smile, mirroring her companion's. "It wasn't like you didn't catch me and yes, I missed you too Milady!" he whispered, sweeping her into a hug.

"You haven't changed one bit, Nick! And quit that 'Milady' nonsense, it's not like I've suddenly decided to stick my nose in the air." Laura pushed a couple of strands of cherry-blond hair away from his eyes, secretly wishing both hair and eyes were black. Yet, Dominic von Habberland, unspoken leader of the 8th-year Chosen, couldn't help but catch her retreating hand and plant an affectionate kiss on her palm. He, like many others, greatly admired her for her lack of desire to be distinguished, even though he had to admit, as did the rest, that there were many good reasons for it. "Couldn't stop myself." He muttered apologetically, his eyes smiling and she poked him in the ribs. "Ouch – what was that for?"

"To remind you why we're here, as you seem incapable of doing anything, but be a prick!" He chuckled a bit, but then became serious "What are we up against this time?" Laura sighed, shrugging off all the sort-of-intimate bits and pieces and fed Dominic on all he needed to know. By the end of it, he was worried enough himself, as her facts had confirmed his own observations. "This is serious – we've never faced someone like that before! One who seeks to entrap minds and souls covertly, without us even realising it…"he was pensive.

"Yes," Laura nodded her voice becoming a dark, cold hiss "our _**problem**_ last year had different tactics. But, let's not forget, _**he**_ was Grindelwald's chief general so, he definitely would have preferred a much more frontal approach..." Dominic's arms encircled her small waist under her cloak, drawing her closer to him, his hands rubbing her sides soothingly "He's gone, Laurie – Anthony Holborn, Alexis Danninos, however he may be called, he doesn't matter anymore. He's dead, darling…"

"Indeed…and by my hand. I used his own creation against him – Invisibility and Death…vaporised him on the spot!" a vengeful tone in her voice "Good riddance, if you ask me, though he was an excellent teacher…Yet, I still can't believe I actually did it…" Nick rubbed the small of her back. "He would have done us all in otherwise, love – all of our generation. He hated us for surviving the war and had only been waiting for the right moment to leap at us – we were simply quicker, that's all."

"I know…the bastard had to pay – he led the Final Battle, before…before Grindelwald came…And He may be defeated, but he's not dead – and he hasn't given up either…" she unconsciously trailed her fingertips over the front side of her right shoulder and Nick's heart ached for her, as he knew what this almost reflectionary gesture meant. That faithful night, 12 years ago, had left his dear friend with too many 'memories'. "But I hadn't killed in cold blood, before – only in self-defence, or to help others…"

"It's okay, love, completely fine – it was just as hard for all of us..." He was amazed, however, how quickly her demeanour changed to focused, all-professional one "But now, we have a new situation at hand – the past is done!" Laura was startled to find herself repeating _**Riddle's**_ words, but it got Dominic sobered up just as fast. "Is it possible Riddle to be working for Grindelwald?" he asked, dreading the answer. The last thing they needed was another Holborn, well Danninos, actually, since this was his real name, on their hands.

To his surprise and relief, however, Laura shook her head "He's too fiercely independent, too much desiring to rule, to ever take orders from anyone. Sometimes, including himself…No, he's the ringleader - the other two think him a friend, but he would discard them just as easily, as anyone else he doesn't need anymore. They don't know anything sensitive – only the basics and they aren't much. I wonder though, if ever, he'd realise what value their friendship holds and start appreciating it, before it's too late. Listen!" she took Nick's hands in hers, her mind working feverishly "We'll do what is safest for us all – we play his game…" her serious look melted into a cruel grin. "…but by our rules. Hear out what he has to say, then show him we aren't interested in whatever he offers. Be always one move ahead of him – know ourselves well and never let him even the faintest glimpse of what's inside…Yet, we mustn't underestimate him either – he'd probably continue to dig deeper, or go for more drastic measures."

"We'll be always on our guard – never slip, or let him out of our scrutiny!" Dominic went on, understanding her plan "But we don't tell anything to the staff."

"No, Van Dyin knew Holborn was Danninos, but left it to us to handle and I bet you anything, he's at least suspecting Riddle too. It's up to us once more – after all," she smirked and Nick mirrored it "practice makes perfect. He would have interfered if things had spiralled out of control, but he has faith in us. He simply wants us to learn to deal these things on our own, to come to rely on and trust each other, even with our lives. Plus we succeeded before - like we will now. Though, I can't really see McBryte rushing to save my life." Laura put in lastly.

"Actually," Nick mused "you may be surprised – I think, he has the hugest crush on you, love." She however waived it off "Nah, can't be that – he's just a sour loser and anyway, I'm not into stupid, schoolboy stuff. I don't do crushes – I either love or I don't…" she trailed off, as the painful memory of an endless emerald gaze that had seemed to have gathered her whole world in its depths, assaulted her, causing unbidden tears to gather in her azure eyes.

Dominic caught on the hint and moved her mind away to something less unsettling "I'm insulted!" he feigned hurt "Being called a 'stupid' schoolboy – shame!" Laura elbowed him in the gut slightly "You're not a school _**boy,**_ Mister, but, actually, the only grown-up _**man**_ in here, if you don't count the teachers and Van Dyin."

"Glad to hear that, love, but, I'm afraid you may be right about Jason - he'll probably never learn. He's my friend, for sure, but he's too much of a hothead and with that temper of his, I'm stunned he's still captain." Laura snorted "_**You**_ are stunned? I think, we all are – especially, since he almost got you lot killed, in the group task of your game with last-year's eigthers!"

"Who doesn't remember _**that,**_ eh?" he smiled widely "But I must say, love, that if there's anyone on this island, who could rival his temper, that would be you, my Lady Firestar – as hot as a flame, in the inside and out…" and that earned Nick a knee in the groin. He doubled over and grunted "Why so angry?" Laura gave him a killer look "My powers and alias are _**mine**_ only, to talk about without permission – understood?" He gave her another apologetic glance "Sorry – didn't mean to open my mouth so much." She helped him lean on the railing of the stone wall, her sudden anger gone, as quickly as it had come. "As for the inside…" she whispered "perhaps, it will never blaze again, except from fury…"

"Enough of that!" she snapped out of it. "Tell me about your first missions!" All 8th-year Chosen had only one teaching class per theoretical subject, a week, and the rest were used for doing mock assignments, under one or more qualified Chosen from the Ministry. Dominic laughed though "One word describes them best – disastrous." She was puzzled "Come on, it can't have been that bad. I've seen you on the field and outside - you lot are really capable. Well, that is with a couple of exceptions, of course." she winked at him.

"But we've beaten you guys how many times in the last two years, love? Twice?" he humoured and she nodded "And even then, we won by default." Then he added, the mirth gone from his voice, concern and regret settling in "I have to go check on Julian, but we'll keep in touch – regular meetings, same time and place, okay?" She understood what he meant and the sorrow in his voice "By all means go – see your cousin. He comes first – I'll take care of the rest." He nodded, gratitude radiating from his mismatched eyes "Take care of yourself first, love and thanks – it means the world to me!" Hugging her one last time, he disappeared into the lower levels of the castle, towards his dorm, where his cousin, whom he loved as a brother, was once more restless in his troubled sleep…

* * *

The deafening silence of the Durmstrang corridors almost rang in Laura's restless mind as her footsteps clattered on the stone floor, a slight uneasiness - sort of anticipation, coursing through her skin. Only she knew what to look forward to, or at least had a good guess. After all, Riddle may not have been particularly clear to read, but Black and Malfoy resembled open books to her during the whole of this already passed week. They had been utterly exciting to decipher – something she had thoroughly enjoyed. Yet, Laura had to admit all three were fairly good as teachers, especially Riddle. The Wednesday curses' exercise had been real fun, their whole class had virtually mastered the spells till the end of the lesson. No trouble whatsoever, unless one counted Lukas putting Seb Kessel in a comatose state for almost half an hour, as he hadn't concentrated properly on the counter-curse for soul extraction. Otherwise, Riddle had given them all a run for their money. Laura sighed and hoped detention was going to be at least remotely as good to do. That is, unless he decided to get back for that little stunt, she pulled on him at the end of their first lesson.

Her steps slowed more and her stomach fluttered again with that small uneasy feeling, as she sternly told herself not to be so silly. It wasn't like he would do anything to her, and even if he tried, she was perfectly capable of defending herself. Then why did she still have that sensation? Refusing to go away, absorbing her so much, that she almost walked into the door of Riddle's office, but stopped just in time to knock instead.

"Come in." she heard a rather friendly voice, even though 'friendly' was probably one of the last words she'd associate with the Dark Arts Master. However that didn't falter her resolve and she entered, quickly sweeping her penetrating gaze around the surprisingly spacious room. Funny, the Dark Arts teachers seemed to get the cream of the cake (Those blasted candy associations she always seemed to make!) when it came to accommodation. She had never been in this particular office before, as none of Riddle's predecessors had given her detention, but the accounts of Travis and Lukas (both frequent 'visitors') and some others had described it quite accurately. Only it was bound to have changed, now that it had a new occupant…

And truly, it currently gave out the air of hidden power, of mystery and secrets buried in the mists of a dark past. Her mind entertained a passing thought, wondering what exactly did his history hold, but it was quickly gone, as she steadied her breath and purposefully approached the two high-backed, leather armchairs near the lit fireplace.

He had heard her footsteps even before she had entered and despite himself a lurking feeling of expectancy had ensnared all his senses. If only he knew why he was experiencing this unwelcome and unexplainable sensation, but once more his highly intelligent mind could provide no answer. Or, at least, no reply he was comfortable with…He felt her come near steadily, the firmness of her steps another proof of that inner strength she had, which swam in the very air they breathed. An invisible, yet so painfully tangible shield, safely keeping from the rest of the world what she held inside…He promptly stood and turned to greet her, deciding that following the formalities just might focus his self on the task at hand and not on _**her**_ but he was once again caught out of words.

She was a breath-taking sight, the navy-blue and black of her casual clothes bringing out her eyes. Her shimmering cascade of scarlet tresses was partly pulled up, but a pair of escaped tendrils framed her marble-carved, icy features. Blue, black and blood-red – a majestic colour-play, which made her look yet paler on the light of the fire in the office, for there was no other illumination. He had had this strange prior thought, that she would look like a blaze in the darkness and surprisingly, or maybe not so, he had been right. She was as if an ethereal creature, an ancient goddess, standing in the retreating shadows, which dared not engulf, or even touch her – her magnificent, yet somehow terrifying, beauty shining like a raging fire in the darkness…

"Firestar…" he couldn't stop himself from murmuring, experiencing now even closer the regal way in which she subconsciously comported herself. It didn't come from pride or posing – it was a state of mind and spirit, evident even in the tiniest of her movements or gestures… But, thank Slytherin, she didn't hear his whispered remark. Or he would have given her another weapon against himself. Slight fury blazed in his eyes – she wasn't going to get to him, not his time.

Laura couldn't help but notice how the shadows danced on his inhuman face, crawling on it at such odd angles that in the dim light it looked almost…normal. One could even call him handsome, exquisitely so. His raven hair falling in slight disarray and his equally black eyes dazzling in the dark, Laura could nearly swear they seemed…alive. She shrugged it off – the man wasn't really 'alive' to begin with it, it was simply her imagination dwelling uselessly on what could never be…

He slowly drew nearer in a cat-like manner, his black robes flowing around him like liquid darkness, until they were mere inches away from each other. An unmistakable aura of power radiated from him, yet it didn't intimidate Laura at all. She raised a hand to stop him from coming any closer into her personal space, but in one swift motion he had taken it and she could feel his warm breath on her face and the smoothness of his leather gloves on her skin. He was tall; his solidly-built frame seemed to be towering over her, her crown would probably brush against his lips. Their eyes were locked together for what felt like eternity, till he seemingly snapped out of whatever enchantment held him there and nimbly led her to the fireplace…


	4. In The Realm Of The Chosen

Disclaimer: The OC's are mine, but the rest - JKR's!

A/N: My biggest apologies for not updating for so long - bloody writer's block, but finally Chapter 3 is here! And of course - Read and Review, no matter what you think, all opinions are welcome!

* * *

CHAPTER 3: In The Realm Of The Chosen

The Dark Lord was oddly reluctant to let go of her soft, frozen hand. But she tugged it out and he experienced another odd, unbidden sensation – bereavement, even though he wasn't sure what exactly he had lost. Still, his façade betraying nothing, he motioned for her to take the armchair facing his, his stomach fluttering a bit, as in one fluid movement she gracefully sank in it. He took his, trying to hide his suddenly erratic breaths, while, unnoticed, she crossed her legs, sapphire and coal-black once more locked in a silent quest for domination. Only this time the result was even.

"So, what will it be?" she asked him calmly, a coolness settling in her navy-coloured gaze. He drew a deep breath, his eyes resembling two shards of onyx-coloured ice – as cold and as hard, as he finally found his voice, forcing it to sound just as collected as hers "Simply a talk." He realised she had turned her mesmerising look towards the fire and was seemingly lost in the captivating dance of the flames and shadows. "You know," she whispered "we use Long-lasting Warming Charms, but not light fire in the castle, except for magical purposes."

They were close, her mere presence so utterly intoxicating, his senses powerless to resist for the first time in years. He was leaning towards her and was sure she sensed it perfectly, but she didn't draw away, nor was there that usual dangerous gleam in her eyes. In fact, she didn't move at all, looking like she was somewhere far away, yet still aware of her surroundings…and of him beside her. This emboldened him and he reached and lightly caressed her icy hand, an action he immediately regretted, as it contrasted so sharply with his cold self. Oddly, she didn't flinch at his touch, nor took away her hand, or turned to slap him. As if she _**liked **_it – just as much as he had savoured _**her**_ touch, four days ago. Merlin, what had he got himself into!

"I got used to living with fire at Hogwarts." his voice was deliberately flat "Even though we Slytherins were constantly considered the cold ones. But I have particular affection for it." '_Especially now, that it so reminds me of you – of the veritable pyre living inside you…But it's almost dead, yet you are not like me – a dweller in the darkness, who has always been this way… And you keep me wondering what has caused this?_'

However, he rapidly chased away these out-of-place thoughts, and telling himself this next was in order to make her trust him, he dared to softly squeeze her fingers and she allowed it, her eyes still on the blazes. "And who knows – maybe the purpose could well turn out to be magical…" whatever madness made him blabber such nonsense, yet, it was at least some consolation, that it could be interpreted in more than one way. Still, she turned and their gazes met, with him finally seeing up close the sheer force of her cold, powerful determination. Yet, somehow, despite that demonstration of her iron will, that kept all her secrets buried, and his own equally strong resolve, he knew that the barriers they had built around each other had just dissolved into nothingness and whatever was left of his soul was unstoppably reaching out towards hers… Until, suddenly, his mind's voice screamed at him to remember himself and he kicked himself mentally for allowing such weakness, as wanting to be close to another human being. Attachments had no utility, unless they brought _**him**_ benefit, and that was exactly the reason she was here for, he recalled albeit reluctantly.

The magic, suddenly born in them both, was gone in a heartbeat, replaced with almost ridiculous ease by the harsh, cold, true purpose behind the whole charade he was trying to put. And startlingly even for him – failing so far. Yet, even so, he wasn't going to give up - not now. And looking at her still form, which he could see once again resembled the frozen vision of an ancient goddess, he knew that, in fact it had never been a question of 'not now', but of 'not ever'… "Miss Snape," Voldemort began in his normal emotionless tone "I have, on more than one occasion, been assured by our Headmaster, that you are by far the most accomplished Chosen in this school, since almost thirty years ago."

Thirty years. Her heart stiffened, though her face betrayed nothing. Why did he have to bring it up? Van Dyin hadn't told him the details, she was sure, but it still caused her unhealed inner wounds to open full force. Yet, he noticed nothing, and simply went on "Clearly, you are a young woman of considerable talents and…power." Ah, there it was - the first subtle hints towards his aim. So, that was indeed why she was given detention with Riddle, instead of Black. All three of them were together in whatever conspiracy they were brewing, which explained their puzzling reactions and not fitting thoughts. Well, two could play this game…

"No, I am simply myself – plain, old Laura Snape, no more, but also no less, Professor." her gaze slightly narrowed, her tone dripping with ice, as well as bearing mere hints of sarcasm, yet not enough for him to notice. "There is nothing special about me, I guarantee - neither on the side of Light, nor on that of Darkness, as you prefer to call them. But, I must agree with you – they aren't the same as 'Good' and 'Evil'." Apparently though, he fell for her ruse and went on, expression all-serious, to say what she had expected. "There is no 'Good' or 'Evil', Miss Snape – only Power…and those too weak to seek it."

"Power? Trust me, Professor; it carries no more meaning, than such empty-by-definition concepts as 'Good' and 'Evil'." Funnily enough, she put much more feeling in her reply than she had intended to. And regardless of her mind's warnings, she continued on the same note.

He noted the sudden bitterness in her voice and wondered what he had said so much, as to trigger her hidden pain. Finding himself in the dark again, the Dark Lord knew, however, something for sure – he needed to know the source of her hurt. Yet, the motive behind remained a dilemma. Of course, he told himself it was to use her pain to manipulate her. But his suppressed human remnants screamed again the truth. The truth he didn't dare even think of, so it was roughly pushed to the darkest, forgotten corner of his mind – that he had to know, because deep inside, for some completely baffling reason, he had found himself longing to take her hurt away…

But he all too quickly shook that off – it would bring him no benefit to suddenly become all-helpful he thought sarcastically, and snapping out of his dangerous musings, his face and voice both blank, he replied "Power is not 'empty', my dear, it can mean a lot. Control, influence over the weaker, knowledge that the rest of the world _**fears **_you, that you determine their faith. It is the strongest drive, the purpose of life. And, above all, fulfilment – you of all must know that full well. The Queen of Durmstrang - the sheer Power, that comes with your title!"

She, however, shook her head, her thick, silken tresses moving so fluidly, that they resembled sea-waves, the colour of blood, her lips forming a curve way too bitter to be ever called a smile "A title – that is all it is in the end. A name, devoid of any life, bereft of a soul of its own. Yet the power behind it is not founded on fear, but on respect, be it grudging or not." and he had to admit she was right on this one.

"Still, its authority is by far its least prominent feature. What counts, is how you use it, not that you have it, and I have tried to the best of my abilities to do it, as it was done thirty years ago…" And against his will and better judgement, he found himself under the spell of her voice, drinking in every single utterance falling off her lips. He cursed under his breath - why did she have to be so infinitely captivating, even when performing such trivial actions…?

"I know what it means to hold another's mind, or life, or both, in your hands and yes, it is to some extent fulfilling; for, the thrill, the taste of success and victory are truly indescribable!" her tone was close to dreamy, as strange as this sounded when used about her and he was a bit taken by surprise – she had her dark side, after all and by the sound of it, she liked it too.

"Yet," she went on, her voice suddenly acquiring its characteristic coldness from before "it does not compensate for an otherwise empty life. For, what good is power, when all that matters to you is torn away again and again?" Her lips were trembling, her gaze so distant and full of silent shadows, from a past, he guessed, probably as painful as his own. "And, yes, I might have been blessed with talents, but the blessing turned to a curse, when in my hour of need, they couldn't help me…They were too late…I was too late…Any other time I used them since, has just been an agonising reminder of what could have been…"

He was on the verge of doing yet again something he would regret later, but he couldn't stop himself as his gloved hand reached and gently took her chin, turning her face slowly so their eyes met once more. He made one last attempt to further his primary purpose "You still can use your power, my dear, and, in time, you shall no longer dwell on past possibilities." He couldn't believe himself - there was almost _**passion **_in his voice "You will forget – we all do; whatever the memories…" (How big a lie that was, he himself knew all to well!)

"Do not discard your gifts – as Power, believe me, will manage to replace what you have been missing. Grab it now and relish in it – there is no 'Good' and 'Evil', the past is done, the future doesn't matter yet, all that is important is Here and Now! And I will help you live in the present once again…" She eyed him incredulously, her lips quirking sarcastically "Are _**you**_ now whole, Professor – is the power you have truly everything you've ever wanted, needed? Dreamt of?" And for a split second his lips threatened to spill out the uncomfortable, inadmissible truth – the doubts he was starting to have, however small they still were. Yet, he caught himself on time and instead stated evenly "With time you learn to be and realise that nothing more is necessary. Your power makes you in a way immortal, since no one dares touch or threaten you – not even Death. You are irreplaceable – to the world itself…" Though, his words oddly sounded to him, as if it weren't her that he was trying to convince…

In this moment however, she did what he least expected – laughed, a rich laughter that would have been infinitely beautiful, had it not been dripping with bitterness "There are no indispensable people and, in fact, whether you are such to the world is of no importance. What's really significant is to be one-and-only for those who matter to you in one way or another. And in this lies the real power one has – the ability to get through anything, defeat all obstacles - even Death…"

Voldemort unexpectedly found himself looking at her amazed. When had the roles been reversed, he marvelled, making him the one enticed, and now even truly dumbfounded. What had wizard-kind done to deserve such amazing people as the Chosen, past, present or future, to shape and enrich it? He had wondered at their views on life before, albeit with his usual inescapable contempt, as they were in many ways too _**noble**_ for someone like himself. But now, he realised startled that maybe, just maybe, he was willing to see life through their eyes and embrace at least some of what they saw…until he told himself that he'd rather do something noble, before he'd abandon his solid principles, in favour of such weakness-inducing nonsense… Yet, when he thought about it, he had to admit, despite himself, that _**they**_ were _**not**_ weak or pathetic - these words could _**never**_ be used to describe them. The name they had earned for themselves, the young woman before him, were proof enough of that…

Laura could almost see the new inner tumult her companion was in – it flashed briefly in his eyes, but was gone just as quickly. Perhaps she had imagined it…? And most definitely the answer was positive – he was way too devoid of emotions to ever be truly in turmoil. But before she could muse longer on it, he abruptly stood and turned away from her, as if trying to hide a reaction he wanted to keep private. "You can leave now, Miss Snape – our session is over." he stated just as rigidly. Strangely, she felt like staying, she didn't know how or why, but her heart was somehow drawing her closer to that man of Darkness. His touches, even through the glistening black leather that adorned his fingers, had been…thrilling, making her skin tickle with a sensation she had long not experienced – exhilaration. And he had felt just the same four days ago, when _**she**_ had touched _**him**_. Was this his way of getting even?

She longed to say something to him and went for the first that came to mind "You won't miss the opening match of the year, right…Professor?" He turned, a puzzled look on his face "Opening match?" She nodded, but he shook his head, a couple of spills of longish, raven hair falling in his left eye, just like before. Her hand itched to brush them back again, but this time he was surely going to react, so she decided against it. "I was never much of a fan of quidditch, Laura." she saw that he realised his slip of tongue too late and was probably regretting it, though she wished he wouldn't. The sound of her name falling off his lips had been too good to pass. She gave him a mischievous smile that, unbeknownst to her, made him want to stay right where they were. "Who said anything about quidditch?" and with that last whispered phrase she was gone, leaving a distressed Dark Arts Master behind.

* * *

And was he troubled! For the first time in his life, Humanity and Power were threatening to engage in a full-fledged battle inside him. And he knew that, if it happened, he'd do all in his control to let the latter win. Yet, secretly, in his wildest dreams, he was equally aware that now, he'd also yearn for the human to be victorious, even if just for one fleeting moment... And he knew all too well the source of these disturbing wishes – Laura, the fiery vision that plagued even now his innermost self…He had called her by her given name and she seemed to have actually _**enjoyed**_ it…A simple fact that nonetheless made his insides twist violently with a sensation he thought impossible - gladness…

And by Salazar himself, he felt like he could talk to her forever, about anything, even the darkest, most unsettling bits of his past. Somehow he had the sensation he could lay bare before her his worst secrets and she would not scorn, nor judge him, but will try to understand… Because in that moment, when she had bared a bit of her heart to him, he had unwittingly started to do the same. Only his strongest willpower had stopped him from actually spilling his soul to her aloud. And despite himself, he wished beyond all reason that he had done it.

Cold fury suddenly ran like ice and fire combined in his veins, as he replayed the whole encounter in his mind again and again. He grabbed a heavy goblet from the nearby table and smashed it on the stone floor, a bit surprised at the force of his rage. She was toying with him, changing him – it was all her fault! That Hellish creature with the false looks of someone Heaven-sent; treacherous, vile manipulator who knew how to play him with ridiculous ease, as if he were her damn instrument! He could kill her without any remorse or hesitation, she meant nothing to him! And he hated her, hated all that she was for starting to ruin him!

He collapsed on his knees on the stone floor, his head in his hands, trying to hide from the horrible thoughts he had just had. For, he did not hate _**her**_ – far from that! He hated himself for being weak, for letting his walls be chipped away, for being drawn to _**her**_… And deep inside he knew it was no game on her part. Just like he was perfectly aware it wasn't she who was ruining or changing him – it was his own doing, and that increased his self-hate even more, making him need to humiliate her in is own mind, in a vain attempt to reduce his self-loathing.

But now, with the coldness of the marble penetrating all his senses, the full extent and meaning of his thoughts settled in, and he was utterly disgusted with himself. For, he felt like he was desecrating her this way... And another foreign sentiment coursed through him, something he thought he was never going to experience, and now suppressed it as quickly and strongly as possible – guilt. Yet, he couldn't help but admit that he had no right to belittle her so, especially after experiencing for himself her inner nobility just now. She fully deserved her pedestals – not only the one people here had put her on, but also that she occupied in his own mind.

Because she never prided herself in the thrones, she undoubtedly knew she had; never boasted or behaved like she was different in any way. But she _**was**_ different - intelligent, fiery and strong; the very reason, why he was drawn to her so… And because of which he couldn't help but crave to awaken her frozen fire, to see it blazing full force once again – but this time its flames to be for him only…

* * *

The door almost slammed after Laura, as she entered the common area of their dorm. Sinking in the warm, blue plush of the large sofa, she lightly closed her eyes, recalling the events just passed – Merlin, did she need a Pensieve now!

He had simply been trying the ground – so he didn't press much. But he'd try again harder, until she gave in. Only she wasn't going to, not really at least – something he'd realise too late, when they had beaten him in his own game.

Power-hungry…Why was he so? What did his past hold, that had twisted him so much, made him give up his heart and soul, trade his humanity for power…? And immortality – he so desperately sought it, in one way or another. So longed to take an eternal Flight from Death, literally…but also to the most secure of places – people's memory…He would surely relish in that, just as he did in ensnaring souls.

Laura smiled, remembering a muggle poem she had read when she was younger, 'Faust'. Riddle could as well have been the inspiration behind Mephistopheles. Had he lived, when Goethe had written his work and had the author known him, as Laura was starting to. Soul entrapper… Only the soul of Firestar was a barren wasteland - way too frozen and empty, to ever be worth taking…

* * *

Settling himself in one of the teachers' stands of the gigantic stadium, Lord Voldemort found himself, actually, eagerly anticipating the game. Especially, seeing the six quidditch rings slowly disappear in the ground. Everyone around him was chattering animatedly about the match, but he still had not even the faintest idea what it precisely entailed. Yet, by the sound of the people filling the stands, it seemed it was to prove quite exciting.

A magically augmented voice soon broke the air, as all had settled down. A voice, which he recognised as Elia Reinchard's "Ladies and gentlemen, fellow students and everyone else, who'd considered themselves able to stomach one more game in the annual competition, between the four final years of the Chosen program, by all means, welcome!" wholehearted laughter accompanied her words "Most of you should already be familiar with the atrocities you'd be witnessing, but for those who aren't, and still aren't green in the face, a quick explanation is in order." Approving giggles rose from the crowd, to which Voldemort couldn't help adding a slight chuckle of his own.

"The game consists of two stages: part 1, where our two teams – six members each, will face each other, testing their magical and combat skills. Wands or wandless – absolutely ANY spell is allowed, _**even **_Unforgivables and any other tactic, until all the opposing team's players are incapacitated, one way or another, and definitely off their brooms. Then, after a half hour break, so that all broken bones, severed limbs and out-of-place joints are healed – courtesy to Professor Linecker, we have part 2. Our players will be against the UNKNOWN…

"Any weapon they want, whatever talents they have, all the brains they possess, all the guts (or balls, in the case of our male contestants) they can muster, versus what they won't find out, until the very last moment. And most importantly – they all must work together, as ONE team. Just like they'll probably have to in the future…But without further ado, let's greet first, last year's runners-up – they've hopefully improved, or they're set to beat their own record of how many times can one break the same bone - much to Professor Linecker's displeasure, I'm sure. Our 8th-years! Habberland, Lindern, Weimar, Trier, Erler and of course, the captain – McBryte!" And as they walked on the pitch, Voldemort easily remembered each of the young men from his classes. Now however, they all were clad in half-armour, like some warriors of old; their considerable agility was evident in the swift, but fluid way, they mounted their brooms - their surprising grace, in stark contrast with their tall muscular built.

The Dark Lord's suppressed taste for adventure now fully awoke, as he waited impatiently for the other team to appear. And, as if on cue, Reinchard's voice boomed again "And now, here they come – the men, and women, of the hour! Champions of two years in a row, our most cherished 7th-years! Adams, Atkins, Länder, Tern, Gebhern," they too were similarly equipped as their opponents "and – Snape!"

His stomach fluttered - Merlin, Laura looked completely stunning! Her armour hugged her upper body – a navy-blue tunic, with off-the-shoulder sleeves underneath it. Tight-fitting, black pants adorned toned legs (which, as he'd learned, were the result of the regular intense exercise all Chosen were subject to), disappearing into black, knee-high leather boots. Her hair was braided back, only two strands framing her cerulean gaze and partially concealing a silver headband, with an ornate V in the middle of her forehead. Studded leather bracelets clasped her wrists and her wand was strapped in a soft-steel holder on her lower left arm. She looked like a true warrioress, a dark, steely gleam in her brilliant gaze – Salazar, he couldn't take _**his**_ eyes off her! She seemed to somehow always manage to render him breathless… Reinchard's voice however startled him out of his reverie "And they're up and flying – so it begins!"

* * *

Amazing, totally remarkable! These were the only words fit describing what the Dark Lord had been witness to, in the past half-an-hour – a unique combination of wizard and muggle duelling right in the air. They fought with such determination and bravery - a spectacular demonstration of not only impressive easiness in using even the most difficult of spells, with or without a wand, but also the most extraordinary acrobatic stunts and what looked like muggle martial arts, mastered perfectly. What he observed was exceptional, wild, almost barbaric, but still, oddly exquisite - performed with incredible finesse, he had seen nowhere before. In fact, many of the spells they employed, seemed to be their own creations – experiments which, each of the young future Chosen used the opposite team's players to test on, like true guinea pigs; just the kind of entertainment he liked.

And true to Reinchard's word, there was quite the bloodshed too, with participants falling left and right, one after the other. Each invariably sported quite the gruesome results from hexes and curses thrown their way or, alternatively, from plain, normal, but still serious, bruises and cuts. His eyes were constantly locked on Laura, who was currently in a bloody battle with McBryde. A whiplash curse had left her with several deep and long gashes on the left side of her neck and face, and Voldemort cringed inwardly, hoping - so uncharacteristically for him, that she wasn't in too much pain.

She however had begun to understandably tire – still maintaining a High Shield, which barred all but Avada Kedavra, against McBryte, and now also having to duel Nick instead, was starting to be quite exhausting. Right then however, Laura abruptly turned for a split second sideways, as her intuition told her to, just in time to see the unmistakable jet of green light, signalling the killing curse, leave Jason's wand…

A cold invisible hand unexpectedly gripped Voldemort's insides so hard, that he couldn't breathe, when he saw McBryte release Avada Kedavra in Laura's direction, but what she did, got his and everybody else's jaws to drop like rocks in sheer awe… In a flash she was standing on her broom, and she kicked herself off, guiding it backwards wandlessly, as her body made a cat-like arch almost two metres above it. The curse, however, changed its direction and was about to go a mere inch under the small of her back. Yet she pushed herself further upwards with a rising spell and it passed her safely, dissolving in the air, while she landed cleanly on the handle, balance undisturbed whatsoever.

The whole stadium, Voldemort included, erupted in thunderous applause, but she didn't pay any heed to it. Instead, she concentrated on ripping McBryte bit by bit, with a combination of Cruciatus and the cutting hex, while a very infuriated Adams dealt quickly with an already quite prone Dominic, leaving the 7th-years victorious in the match's first part. That particular development made raw cries of exhilaration burst from all, who weren't puking or passed out (and they weren't that many), and Voldemort himself felt strangely elated, as he went on the pitch, with the rest of his colleagues, to congratulate the victors.

Laura and her team had won and for once, albeit reluctantly, he let himself freely delight in the pride that swelled his insides – pride _**in **__**her**_ its source unknown, but for a time, he didn't care about how inexcusable to his coldness this experience was. It was just there, making him feel better and more _**whole**_ than anything else had in years… And as if on cue, she looked at him, while absently accepting the praises of the others.

Salazar, she was every inch the epitome of one of those warrior-goddesses from muggle mythology – a Valkyrie… The thrill of domination, the seduction of victory, had ignited her numbed, inner fire, albeit, sadly, only for the duration of the game, awakened fully her hidden darkness, caused power to utterly intoxicate her, brought her almost to ecstasy. But, despite her more than willing, in fact close to desperate, embrace of her dark half, the small, sarcastic smile she gave him, when their eyes met, made it all clear. She wouldn't forsake her humanity for it, regardless of how pleasurable the sensation, no matter that she herself felt unusually complete, when she experienced it…

* * *

"Fellow friends, who have hopefully survived Part 1 of our game, we're now starting Stage 2." Elia's voice boomed again, an hour and a half later "Our players are all up and coming – every missing bit in its appropriate place, and they will have to enter the Forest of Mists, North of our current location, just at the heart of the Island. What will happen there…well, wait and see!" And on that note Reinchard's voice disappeared, while a giant whirlwind of silvery-white, liquid haze flowed slowly from Van Dyin's wand in the midst of the stadium. Twisting and twirling wildly, it finally formed something akin to a huge three-dimensional screen of sorts, through which, Voldemort knew, they were going to be following the players' movements.

And promptly, all twelve young people entered once again their view, wands still strapped to their lower arms. However, now they wielded normal weapons, too - long bows, daggers, spears, crossbows, even whips and in McBryte's case, an axe, each holding tightly on their chosen armaments. Still, the Dark Lord paid heed only to what Laura was clutching, yet found out, taken aback, that she had nothing but her wand.

Though, only for a moment – for, she flexed her delicate fingers and appeared to close them securely around something invisible, until her hands were grasping two, twin, double-edged silvery swords, which she seemingly drew out of thin air. On their blades were engraved ancient symbols, which he recognised with a barely stiffened gasp. Only one set of these existed, but they were a mere legend…no, it was impossible – they _**had**_ to be copies… He shook his head, chasing away these completely useless thoughts, and silently, still fighting himself about this simple gesture, he wished Laura good luck with whatever was waiting for them all…

* * *

"Okay, everyone – one last thing before we go in!" Nick glared at his lot and at the TA's and Lukas "NO and mean NO fighting between ourselves! We've done this before, so working together, WITHOUT killing each other, shouldn't be that difficult now either, I believe?" He got understanding gazes from all of them, except McBryte, who was as sulky as a cloudy day. "I DO mean it, Jason – that stunt of yours back there with the Avada Kedavra _**was **_unnecessary!" Laura put a hand on his shoulder "I think he learned his lesson about that one, Nick – Linecker was the busiest with _**him**_. Practically needed an hour to get him back in _**one**_ piece…"

She sent Jason a slightly cruel gaze, feeling a tad of savage pleasure at the pain she'd inflicted him. Maybe Riddle _**was**_ rubbing on her after all? Or was it her own darkness speaking again? Perhaps, even a mixture of both – because Riddle somehow managed to awaken her dark half with his mere presence. Whatever it was though, truth be told, she rather liked it... "On our brooms, everyone!" she called mounting her own, and they flew into the thick mass of very tall trees, that was the Forest of Mists…

The tree-trunks were constantly shrouded in a sort of sticky-looking fog, from which came the place's name, with only a few feeble sunrays bleeding through it here and there. The sheer height of the trees made it impossible to have a good view of the ground ahead, so flying was the only option to keep a decent lookout. Each had strapped their weapons to their waist or back, so they weren't in the way and were now stealthily soaring through the fog's waves and between the thick trunks of the Demon Trees, as they were called. For, in each, story went, a spirit lived.

Yet, unlike those of usual magical woods, the inhabitants of the Forest of Mists weren't normal Dryads, but the cursed spirits of all those who had died on the Island, while trying to harm it or its or any of its rightful residents. Remembering this, Laura shuddered with distaste – that meant Danninos' ghost could be somewhere close. She wasn't afraid – nothing of the sort, simply not wanting to ever see the man again, vision or not!

"Lindern, Weimar, watch out!" Laura suddenly heard Vera's worried cry and whirled to her right, where she knew her friend was, only to see that they were spotted. Several of the trees had all of a sudden woken – energy bolts running up and down their large trunks, their tops and branches coming to life, as they became long demonic arms, vicious claws extending, sharp as sabres, from each of their many fingers. The tortured cries of their spirits broke the previously still air, as their faces – male and female alike, swam like reflections on a lake surface, on the now almost transparent bark. Axel and Lars had deftly avoided the razor-like claws and were now, together with Georg Erler, expertly dealing with them with some freezing, burning and vaporising hexes. Flames, ice bits and shards of the talons flew everywhere in the air around them, causing all the rest to duck with the speed of light or, if they were lucky enough to be farther – conjure shields to spare them any cuts or burns.

Vera had to rush and get Travis out of harm's way, as for some reason he had seemed a bit dazed and hadn't seen a severed claw dashing for him. "What possessed you to stand there like a stone griffin, you moron?" she shouted, enraged by him not paying attention. Normally he would have had some witty comeback, but to her and his own surprise, he only managed to blurt out "I…I don't know – it was as if I was paralysed. I couldn't move and my mind was like blank." Both Vera and Ale Tern, who had come to her side with Trev, eyed each other in confusion – there was nothing in the Forest known to have such effects.

"Maybe it's part of the task." Trevor shrugged, while the eighters and Lukas tackled several more demon hands, with Laura slashing some of the rest with no effort at all, as if they were butter and burning off the others to cinder, in mere seconds. "Wow!" Julian von Trier exclaimed "That was one helluva fire spell there, luv!" Laura simply rolled her eyes "Stop exaggerating and let's get going – is everyone all right?" They all nodded, sporting only minor cuts.

Nick joined her side, surveying the group "Good." he acknowledged "And as for Adams' sensation – we have to fight this. If any of us feels it again, use all your willpower to push it away." Common approval followed his words, as they continued further in. Julian was the first to break the silence "Did you hear their warning?"

Most of the others eyed him puzzled. "We heard the howls and threats all right, but that was pretty much it." Lukas retorted a bit annoyed. Julian shook his head "There was more..." Nick's gaze immediately grew dark, as he, together with Laura, Axel and surprisingly, Ale too, turned to Julian, comprehension dawning on them "What was it, bro'?" Dominic prompted his cousin to get out whatever was worrying him. Young Von Trier's gaze was distant, almost trance-like "**'Another danger, a new threat arises… A Fire burns, where it should not. Beware! Beware of the traitor in your midst!'**" he shook the daze off "I mean it does sound serious."

Everyone's brows furrowed in contemplation – Julian was never wrong, when it came to his abilities. "Why would _**they**_ want to warn _**us**_ though?" Vera was incredulous "After all, they had wanted to harm the Island or its people – it's just out of place." However, to all's surprise, it was Jason who managed to put word first "It's because we're in an older part of the Forest – whoever is imprisoned here have been part of it and the Island for quite the time already. It forges a bond, whether they like it or not."

"True," Laura went on "the connection makes them one with the Island's very soul and bits of it are imprinted on these spirits, making them responsible for those of us, rightfully living or present here. So, they warn us, for they now sense the danger and are obliged to help us prevent it. Yet, they couldn't stop from attacking us too - the murderous thoughts of old are quite hard to forget..."

"Still – a traitor among us, in our teams?" Vera shot, not caring to mask her dislike for McBryte and his men, but Julian explained "No – when they, as well as every other Guardian, speak, it's all permanent inhabitants they refer to. Just the students and teachers." Before Travis added thoughtfully "And the Headmaster. Yet, he's really one of the staff too." All heads shot to him in shock. "No way – Van Dyin will never betray us! None of them will!" Trev countered and the rest vividly agreed, but then a thought occurred to Julian "Never _**willingly**_…" Discarding this remark though, Axel Lindern added "But who is the enemy then – I don't get the Fire bit?"

"It's simple." all eyes turned to Laura, whose own had strangely started to change colour, going from midnight-blue to almost flaming golden, with treads of scarlet, as if blazes danced in them "Someone, who shouldn't have it, wields the Power of Fire. As the only ones who are entitled to, not only on the Island, but in general, are the Supreme Guardians…and me." Several gasps of surprise were heard from the 8th-years. "You have one of the Four Powers?" Lars Weimar couldn't hold back a wow. Laura nodded – she didn't like telling around, but they had to trust each other, and the people here were as reliable as it got, McBryte included.

"Two actually, even if I'm only a temporary holder for the second, but I want this to stay here and between us only." And the others nodded, seriousness and fierce loyalty oozing in vibes from them. The redhead couldn't help but smile, showing her gratitude – so much for the rivalry… "Yet, if there was someone else here controlling the Fire, I would've felt them…unless…"she trailed off, dread settling in her gut, as she remembered something "Unless they were negated, so I can't sense them. All six Supreme Guardians are a combination of three of the Powers and have enough of that of Darkness to counter me and each other. For another with the Fire, there must be someone else on the Island controlling the Darkness. And we don't know who…"

"Is it part of the game, though?" Ale asked, but Nick countered "Can't possibly be – this is way too serious to be left to deal with only for such short time. It's something separate, that we must start working on, once we've finished with the match. Plus, Van Dyin's instructions were, the core of the task was in the Centre Clearing, in the heart of the Forest. So, let's hurry, but be on your guard, 'cause it's still probable to encounter demons. And stay together!"

"And if you start feeling strange, fight it and call to me at once!" Laura added, as they flew past the rows of trees and through the mist. It got thicker by the minute and they had to use an Illumination and Tracking spell combination not to lose each other in it. Finally, the fog became less dense and, weapons at the ready, the team prepared to land in the Centre Clearing.

However, as they flew out into the sunlight again, their determined expressions changed to puzzlement. "That doesn't look like the Centre." Lars started and Georg put in "Resembles it a bit, but not completely – maybe the trees have shifted, when we fought them, so we have to look for the signs. Everyone – you know what to search for!" All landed, but for Laura and Julian, who were to keep a lookout, and scattered around the wide grassy patch. Minutes later, they have found most they've been looking for, yet not all, which meant their battle had indeed changed the Forest's position. However, a feeling of danger overcame Laura again, and she met Julian's gaze, as they hovered above the others. "I know." he put in "I sense it, too. It was way much too easy to get here…"

"Over here!" they heard Ale's voice from below and flew to join the others, who had already gathered around whatever she had found. "What do you think this is?" Trev asked no one in particular, making a move to touch the small puddle of dark liquid near the trees, but Vera grabbed his arm "Don't! We don't know if it's dangerous, and considering we're still in the game, it probably is." Instead, Laura dug the tip of one of her swords in the substance and raised it, letting the fluid slide slowly down to mid-blade, leaving a brownish-black trail behind. "It looks like the blood of a Guardian. And look – it's left a trail going deeper to the South and we know what's there…"

"The entrance to their lair." Georg murmured "Perhaps they're hurt – that must be the task! To find out and deal with what's causing the harm." Still, Julian shook his head "But none of them had been out for a long time – we would've known, if it was otherwise. How did the blood get here, then?"

"Unless it's meant to confuse us…" Laura remarked, as she suddenly moved to examine closer the liquid on her blade and then that in the puddle. "That's not their blood – look here! It's supposed to be a completely black trail, but it's actually closer to auburn. It's a sham!" and with that she performed a Revealing spell and then an Illusion-breaking hex and the fluid regained its normal, very dark red colour, with slight golden tint. "It still resembles blood, though." Georg remarked, making Laura open her eyes, which she had closed during breaking whatever spell was used for concealment. Her gaze widened, as it fell on the puddle "It can't be…"she whispered "That's the Blood of Fire…Can't have come from a Guardian – it's too pure. Hell, even mine isn't as clear as this here, though it comes really close! Which means…"

"It's from the Source." Nick finished for her "Probably preserved for centuries, but spilled, who knows why, here." Travis shivered unwillingly, adding "Well, I truly hope it's just that, though." while Julian was seemingly in a trance again. "Back off – all of you!" he suddenly yelled, his eyes snapping open and they daren't not disobey. Still a bit stunned, they stepped well away from the puddle, when out of nowhere the ground started to shake violently and everyone ran, calling their broom and flew up. "The Guardians are awake!" Lukas shouted through all the noise of earth cracking. "No, it's not them – look!" Vera and Ale pointed towards the cracks, which had swallowed the blood and now from them, like a solid wall, erupted amber-coloured flames, causing the group to fly further up to avoid burns.

"Vera's right – it's something else! There's no Power of the Mind!" this time it was Laura, who had just probed the openings thoroughly. "Only that of Fire!" her eyes widened in disbelief and the others followed her gaze, seeing now a tall figure starting to get formed by the flames. Vera barely stiffened a gasp, only managing to say "This isn't a game – it's for real…Oh my God…"

Laura whipped around only to see the flames swallowing the other ten of their team, each trying to combat them magically, but to no avail, and she quickly summoned her control of the Fire to make the blazes lower to a safe distance and kept them there. She cursed under her breath – this was no ordinary magical fire, since only she could defeat it. She and Vera then rushed to check the rest for injuries, yet surprisingly, there were none. Breathing a sigh of relief, however Laura noticed their closed lids and the fact that they were floating, despite the singed brooms.

"Oh no…" she whispered, probing each psyche and finding them completely void and their bodies paralysed, when she tried to move them from inside their minds. Suddenly, an inexplicable sensation made her turn towards the mysterious figure. She fought the feeling and managed to quickly and relatively easily chase it out of her mind, locking her gaze in a silent struggle with that of the intruder. "Laurie! No!" the shriek from her friend finally caused Laura to look at her left hand, which had, half-consciously, found its way to just below her right shoulder, and she barely withheld a gasp – blood was dripping from her armour onto her marble-white skin…

* * *

Before she knew what had happened, Vera was out cold too, leaving her alone and bleeding against the creature in front of her. _'What did you do to them?'_ her mental voice spat defiantly and the flaming being projected back _'Worry not, my Fire Mistress – I have no intention of killing them. Yet. But shall you refuse to embrace your destiny; I may be forced to take more drastic measures.'_

'_It's me you want, demon! Release them and fight!'_ she raised both her swords, thrusting them into him as quick as lightning. Yet, their tips were violently pushed off the fiery surface that bathed his form, seemingly having hit a solid barrier, and he only looked amused at them _'I remember these, you know – as if it were yesterday, when I forged them. Just as I recall perfectly who were the first, and the last, to wield them before you. Two of the most powerful…and beautiful, weapons ever made. Take good care of them – for, they are invaluable…'_

Laura gave him a murderous glare _'Of course they are – to me!'_ He, for it definitely was a he, softly chuckled _'And to me too, my dear Flame…Though they can never harm __**me**__.'_ his hand reached out to caress her cheek almost tenderly and she winced a bit at his touch, expecting it to be scalding, yet the blazes were harmless on her skin. Then is struck her; the impenetrable shield, the fact that no fire or spell could harm him in this form – he was like her, his current self resembled her own, when fully empowered. But it was impossible – she was the last one left, who could do it…

As if having sensed her thoughts, the flames around him slowly died down and were seemingly swallowed back into the tall, strongly-built form of a man with long copper-blond hair, his eyes – mismatched blue and green. A man all too familiar to her…Now Laura was sure the flames around him had been an illusion, however the results from her wandless employment of the same spells, she had used mere minutes ago, and her own Power were more than controversial. Still, that didn't stop her from firing several curses in his direction, her eyes now blazing with fury, as she was unable to withhold the sheer pain, which the mere fact of seeing him brought her. However her spells vanished when they hit their target, with no effect on him at all - as if they were absorbed into his body, which made her grit her teeth in frustration.

"Why..." was all she could bring herself to ask, swiftly biting back the tears swelling up in her eyes. In a flash, he was so close to her that she inhaled his scent – burning embers "All in good time, my dear – all in good time…" His right hand's long fingers interlaced with hers, which clutched tightly the handle of her broom "You have grown in quite the beauty - just like you were promising to, when I last saw you. And you're strong – so powerful… There's no one like you… _**My**_ _**Firestorm**_…" His other hand gently took her left one, which Laura had been holding on her wound, and brought it to his lips, tasting the blood on it – her blood…

"Now you can safely say we are almost one – but till our next meeting…" he touched the source of her bleeding "My crest shall stay with you…" And with that he vanished seemingly into thin air, like a spectre that had never existed and Laura finally managed to see from her position in the air that the ground was whole. No cracks, or even the faintest hint there had been fire around. Her friends lay there unconscious still, but their minds were no longer blank – in fact, there were no signs of interference with them at all, just as there was no Blood of Fire anywhere near.

Laura wandlessly scanned the area with the strongest Revealment spells – absolutely nothing, as if it had all been simply an … illusion, but one which left no traces… And then, feeling something warm and sticky trickling down her fingers, she, till then completely oblivious about it, finally remembered she was bleeding…

* * *

The improvised 3-D screen, the stadium had been watching the teams' progress on, unable to hear what they were saying though, had all of a sudden went completely empty, when the players entered the Centre Clearing. Uproar of discontent had erupted from the crowd and Van Dyin, with several others, had in vain tried to fix it. Some minutes later, they just gave up, and reckoning something might have happened, Linecker, Malfoy and the Headmaster had readied their brooms to fly there, since the shifting nature of the trees made it impossible to Apparate with precision.

Just as they were set to leave, however, the screen flared back to life on its own and the whole stadium gasped in horror. For, they saw the unconscious bodies of eleven of the team and Laura, still hovering on her broom, but with her right shoulder bleeding profusely and her - turning paler and dizzier from the blood loss by the second. Losing no time, the would-be rescuers, joined also by Professor Black, immediately set off, adding extra-speed spells to their brooms and in the resulting chaos on the stands, no one noticed that one Professor Riddle had disappeared somewhere, too…

Laura knew she was quickly losing blood, but the resulting light-headedness she felt prevented her from being able to stop it. Landing was to prove equally problematic, since she could barely hold on to her broom. Growing weaker by the second, she finally sensed herself slip off the handle and fall towards the ground.

Face turned upwards, just before she closed her eyes, no longer able to hold back her heavy lids, she saw the skies darken with a blackness never seen before – no clouds, no sun or stars, or light whatsoever. She vaguely wondered what the Hell had happened before and whether this was part of it too.

Expecting to soon hit the surface, the last she felt however, before unconsciousness claimed her, were instead two strong, distinctly male arms taking her prone form and a unique yet strangely familiar scent – mixture of leather and darkness, ensnaring her senses. Then, the world finally went blank…

* * *

The soft touch of smooth fingers on her cheek, trailing down her neck, was what Laura first became aware of, when she finally slipped out of oblivion. Not opening her eyes, she savoured the simple sensation of skin against skin, basking in the soothing scent of leather and darkness. It was so familiar, yet she couldn't place it. Still, it was truly pleasant, only to have it vanish, for the fingertips, whoever they belonged to, were abruptly gone as she began to stir.

Opening her gaze, she saw she was in a four-poster that clearly wasn't hers or the sick bay's, the sheets were black as were the drapes, which surprisingly looked as if they hadn't been drawn at all, for a long time. She tried to sit up, but a searing pain below her right shoulder brought her back on the two big feather pillows, making her rapidly remember the events at the match.

She peeked at where the brand was burned in her otherwise flawless skin. Someone had stopped the bleeding and bandaged it - probably the same person, who had removed her armour and torn blood-soaked tunic. Which made the alarm flare in her mind – whoever had taken care of her had seen the brand. And as she lay there, still slightly weak from the blood-loss, she couldn't decide which was worse – having her secret exposed, or being in the same room with the Fire knew who. Though, she was aware of one thing for sure – whoever it was, the guy was more than in for a real, full-blown demonstration of just how fiery her temper could be…


	5. Fifteen Minutes To Midnight

A/N: I've finally managed to get this one finished. Give it a chance - it'll get better as it goes! And don't forget, that as every writer I thrive on reviews - it won't take that much time for one ;-) !

_Flashback_

_'Mind Speech'_

* * *

CHAPTER 4: Fifteen Minutes To Midnight

He'd been unable to resist trailing his fingers over Laura's silken skin. It was perfect, _**she **_was perfect, his Valkyrie…Though, he disregarded completely the odd incompatibility of his unfeeling self, and him referring to Laura as 'his'. That didn't mean however, that he was ready to face her reaction, when she finally came round, and realised where she was…and with whom…

And as if on cue, he had felt her move slightly under his gentle caress, and had immediately drawn away from her, as if scalded, exiting the drapes around his bed to stand by the large window. She was waking and he felt unable to meet her answer to his prior actions, that had led them where they now were.

He had seen the gash in her armour on the screen and her quickly growing dizziness from the considerable loss of blood. And, as impossible as it had seemed, an unbelievably strong urge had suddenly seized his insides in an icy, vice-like grip - one, that had pushed him violently to get to her immediately, no matter the way. An unusual and unbidden sensation, which nonetheless had, quite rapidly, got the upper hand in his inner turmoil and in a heartbeat he had left his stand, using his power to move at hypersonic speed through the shadows. He had been oblivious that he made the skies grow black and the sun disappear, as he had let this new drive run wild through him, causing the Power of Darkness to take even more over him.

He knew he wasn't supposed to let emotions rule him or be felt at all, yet it had been better thus, as it had kept everybody else out of his way, allowing him to catch her just in time, before, only half-conscious, she had hit the ground. Feeling the life slip away from her, the thought of losing her to death had inexplicably torn him apart - something, he had attributed to his own desire to avoid such an end himself, at all cost. Yet, unbeknownst to him, that same occurrence's force had led into him not noticing another, piercing pang inside him, that had been there only for a mere second, before it had melted away.

It had seemed a regular dagger or sword cut to him, though really deep and with an unusual shape, but he hadn't looked much at that, concentrating instead on healing it. Still, it had refused to disappear, even with the strongest dark spells, so all he could do in the end was stop the bleeding, clean and bandage it. And, against his best efforts, he'd been tossed in a strangely powerful torrent, of what, despite his mind's fervent protests, he could identify only as anxiety, until he had finally felt her pulse normalise.

Removing her armour and tunic was probably going to, at least, earn him a murderous look, but it had been necessary. And, frankly, he had quite enjoyed the view of her almost naked upper body – it had only cemented his earlier observations, that she was a masterpiece come to life. But he hadn't overstepped the boundaries of propriety, and had covered her softly with a blanket, when he was finished, letting himself only relish in the sheer feel of her flawlessness under his bare skin – till now…

Laura meanwhile, tried to stand again, and this time it didn't feel as bad. She pushed the drapes open slowly, yet only to reveal what she had dreaded and anticipated in equal measure… "You!" she couldn't hold back, successfully keeping the whirlpool of thoughts burning her at bay "Where are we?" Riddle's rigid back finally turned, his face emotionless "You should rest – you're still weak from the blood-loss. And it is good, if you ate some too." he gestured to a tray full of food on the nightstand. Ignoring it though, she went on sternly, fixing him with a glare, that would've definitely scorched him, had she been using her additional powers "I want an answer – and don't try changing the subject again!"

But his reply was just as calm as before "My quarters and, as probably you have figured out already, this is my bed, you just left." Laura felt her anger rise to the point of erupting, his blank expression infuriating her greatly – what was he thinking! "Listen, you conceited ass! I'm not some brainless bint, who doesn't care where she spends the night, not to mention with whom!" her voice dripping with sarcasm and rage. She had forgotten she was yelling at a teacher and could get in big trouble for it. Yet, she didn't care, all she wanted was some, _**any**_ reaction from him "And how dare you even _**think **_of undressing me, let alone actually _**do**_ it!"

He was completely taken aback by her outburst, unwittingly backing a couple of steps away, as she drew herself to her full height, and was now standing right in his face, the top of her head reaching to his lips. He could swear he saw flames of murder dance furiously in her azure eyes. Still, he got once again quite the amazing view of her half-naked upper body – flawless, milky skin, full breasts, firm abdomen…And he found himself helpless to stiffen a thought, wondering how would it feel to have every contour and curve of her stunning figure moulded to those of his own…Wait a minute, just _**what**_ in Slytherin's name, was he thinking?

Though he had to admit, she had quite the scorching temper - and a solid backbone, knowing that she could get punished for such lack of respect towards a Professor, and still standing up to him. It irritated him a lot, since he had only done it in her best interests - something, that sounded like the greatest of ironies, as he was anything but altruistic; yet at the same time, he found her boldness rather alluring. After all, not many men, and certainly no women, had ever dared to confront him, let alone in such disrespectful manner - those who _**had**_ had the guts, had proven lacking in either the sanity or intelligence departments. Yet, when it came to Laura, he knew excellently that she, in fact, was far from short of either. And, torn between the equally powerful urges to either snarl or genuinely smile at her, he, instead, resorted to saying flatly "I had to clean your wound and wrap it up – would you have rather bled to death?"

He had a point there, Laura had to admit, but she couldn't stop her next query "Why here though, and why you, of all people?" His gaze met hers and she felt the anger subside, letting herself drown in those pools of black, as dead as they were. Yet, strangely, they didn't seem such now – as impossible as it was, she could swear there was emotion in his eyes, which he tried hard to mask. But surely her mind was deceiving her, he was colder than an ice block, emptier than the deepest void – he had shown her this quite clearly before.

"My quarters were the closest place with any healing materials, and I was able to get to you the fastest. Plus, both Linecker and Van Dyin know you are here." A thorough probing of his mind proved he wasn't lying. "But no one can Apparate in the Forest of Mists – not after it shifted, when we fought the Demons…" she trailed off, as comprehension dawned on her "The Twilight, which even the strongest Illumination spell couldn't disperse, travelling through shadows… 'No one knows its limits, or whether there even are any.'…It was you…You have the Power of Darkness…"

His eyes widened sharply – she had made the connection, and now she knew...but then again, she was too intelligent to miss it. And even though he suddenly found himself captive of the most irrational of wishes - to actually share it with her, he still dreaded her next realisation. "No one has used it so deeply, ever since Salazar Slytherin." her gaze was inquisitive, yet not judging. Perhaps, he had been right in thinking she'd try to understand him… And this made his anxiety vanish as quickly as it had appeared, as she went on uncovering more of his origins, than he previously would have ever felt comfortable with.

"You are a successor, but not just any descendant. Only his Heir would be able to do what you did…" and all he could do was simply nod. Odd – he realised, that the exposing of his lineage and his place in it didn't bother him in the way he had expected. He actually felt relieved...because, it was Laura who knew. The woman, whose life he now understood, had somehow come to mean enough to him, in the short time they had known each other; to ignite in him desire to preserve it… It was simply because of his plans, he told himself – she wasn't any use to him dead or incapacitated, and besides, she too could be an adversary soon, if his devices were uncovered. Then, why did he still feel unable to withhold the truth, or divert her conclusions?

And then it dawned on him, the fact he had denied for as long as he had noticed its existence, realisation of it now hitting him hard, almost brutally – he had come to _**trust**_ her… When had this happened? But at the same time, did it really matter, as a new, equally thrilling and dangerous, wish shot through his mind like a fire blaze – if only Laura would trust _**him**_ just as much. If only…were there more painful words than these two?

"And now you know." behind the near tangible, inner strength in his onyx eyes, the scarlet-haired witch could see the slight vulnerability - perhaps his humanity wasn't wholly gone, after all. Still, she couldn't escape the guilt she felt for revealing the truth. She now had something, placing him in her hands, and he knew it, but he hadn't really done anything yet. They needed solid proof to expose him, and besides, Laura had realised he trusted her, for whatever reason he'd allowed himself such weakness. And as long as he didn't give her or the others any motive to the contrary, she wouldn't betray his trust "You can have confidence in me – whatever I've discovered here won't leave these walls." This strange need to assure him, where did it come from? Oh, yes of course, after all, she owed him her life, which reminded her…

"Thank you." she whispered, her fingers trailing over his cheek sending jolts of electricity through every nerve ending he possessed, the heart, he was sure he didn't have, skipping a beat. His own hand suddenly slipped over hers, holding it there, as he gently pulled her closer to him, one strong arm around her small waist. Hoping he hadn't imagined her breaths' quickening, caused by their proximity, he tried to calm his own uneven breathing "Whatever for?" Her lips quirked a bit "For your impeccable timing, and your catching skills, of course, you dimwit."

He couldn't help but chuckle – her bravado, truth be told, appealed to him immensely. Yet, everything quickly fled his mind, save for the fact that she was there, in his arms. So close, that he could feel his face was leaning towards hers…when, with a start, he remembered his normal coldness and abruptly let go of her. Was that…disappointment in her gaze? "You should rest. It has been a long day, and you will need your strength. If the night goes fine, you can go tomorrow." He saw her finally realise it was dark outside. "How long have I been out?"

"Around six hours – gave me quite the scare." She drank in this inadvertent confession eagerly, realising that he probably hadn't had the time to grasp the exact words he was using before he let them out, but then she narrowed her eyes incredulous "You don't really expect me to remain in your bed, now do you?"

"I shall take the couch in my living room, do not worry yourself. But you need to sleep this off – and I cannot stop here after I have done all else already. Besides, Linecker and his team are busy with your friends – you got away quite lightly, it seems." but he instantly regretted saying this last, as he saw her eyes darken immediately with ill-concealed concern. "Goodness!" she whispered "I completely forgot about the others! How are they, it's nothing serious right?" He couldn't help running his hands over her upper arms soothingly, in a sort-of subconscious compensation for his earlier indiscretion "They will probably wake up soon. You mustn't worry – there isn't much you could have done, with yourself being unconscious." He slowly brought her to sit on his bed and prompted her to lie down again. He couldn't help but once more notice the stark contrast of her, now free, scarlet, wavy hair and snowy skin, and the blackness of the sheets – true beauty, he thought breathless, fighting back an unwise urge to finish the kiss he had stopped mere moments ago.

Instead, he covered her up with the blankets and she adjusted her pillows, since she wouldn't let him do it. "It is usually that long till I wake, when I lose consciousness. My blood pressure is a bit lower than the normal and losing this much blood makes it fall to critical levels. I can faint almost like a coma for hours." she explained, as he found himself again unable to tear away from her, nor to forget what had happened mere hours ago - how close she'd been to the ultimate end, and how near _**he**_ had been to losing her...whatever the reason, behind his realisation that he couldn't let that happen… He felt her brilliant blue eyes find his, and he lost himself in those pools of sapphire, when as if on cue, she asked, her voice barely above a whisper "Why?"

And he instantly knew what she meant, as he had dreaded this question the whole time, since she had come round. Suddenly, his throat tightened and he couldn't find his voice, having resolved that the truth was to remain his only – even though, actually he himself wasn't exactly sure what that same truth was. Yet, he didn't want to lie to her either, so he went for another plausible explanation "I am your teacher – I couldn't just let you die."

Laura knew he wasn't revealing his real motives, but then again, she hadn't expected him to. It was probably his desire not to lose his most powerful potential ally. She sighed unnoticed, when she suddenly remembered "My wand, my swords, where are they?" the worry impossible to hide, as her gaze frantically searched the room for her weapons and armour.

He lowered his eyes, slightly uneasy by her question – she didn't feel safe with him without her arms, not that he could blame her. Still, he produced the objects she had asked about and watched, the stab-like sensation deepening, as she – following her warrior instincts, inspected them thoroughly for any signs of tampering. Only that she wasn't going to find any, as he hadn't fiddled with them at all. Hell, not even the _**thought **_of it had crossed his mind! However, then, cold anger gripped his insides – why should it even bother him? And it didn't, he denied stubbornly, he was just annoyed, that she made him give them to her now, instead of wait till the morning. That was it…Who was he trying to fool? He was, as much as he hated to admit it, experiencing, for one of the rarest times in his life, real hurt, and a bad one by that – for, he perceived she didn't trust him, and perhaps never would. After all, he had given her no reasons but today to think otherwise.

Laura had seen the way his expression had changed ever so slightly, trying to mask what, despite all logic, looked like ache, as eerie as it was in his usual coldness and she wondered what could have prompted it. Then it hit her – wanting her arms back, he thought she didn't trust him. Well, truth be told, she indeed didn't – his side motives were still there, but she couldn't help her next words. "It's not what you're thinking." she addressed him and Riddle eyed her confused "My weapons – I wanted to see they weren't damaged. That's why I asked for them – they are…" she hesitated a bit here, the pain from remembering making her bite back tears, yet she finished off on a confident note "They are mementos from someone who meant a lot to me…"

His eyes unexpectedly softened at her revelation, their cold air strangely gone, with what looked like understanding in its place "It is quite all right – after all, your reasons are your own, and it is not my business to pry in them. But I cannot forget to congratulate you." Now it was Laura's turn to be puzzled "Whatever for?" He chuckled and by the sound of it, he wasn't faking it either "For winning the game, of course. You were all magnificent – something, for which you have my sincere appreciation." a praise, whose honesty, even though he tried, he couldn't hide from someone, as perceptive as her.

Yet, he was taken aback by her reply, as she sadly shook her head "In the first part, maybe. But in the second, I failed – I should have seen it coming. And now they're all out cold because of me…" He smiled inwardly – genuinely admiring her, albeit still grudgingly, even though it had been just an accident. The whole system of spells set up, had gone awry for some reason – still undiscovered, and all players had been locked inside their minds.

It was a miracle Laura had remained unharmed – something, Van Dyin didn't, oddly enough, seem surprised by, at all. Nor did most of the other teachers, and it had stunned the normally unshakable Dark Lord beyond belief. That _**had**_ been a narrow escape – were none of them worried for her at all? Still, he was left without an answer, but with the unwelcome awareness that it was _**him, **_who_** had been**_ concerned…

In a moment, the exhaustion had taken its toll on Laura, causing her to fall into a deep sleep. He stayed by her side, incapable of leaving, as if an invisible magnetic power kept him there. He tried to hammer home in his mind, that he was going for all this trouble only to gain her trust, so he could further his plans. But once again, his logic failed him. Because he knew, deep inside, that he had done all, only because of those uncomfortable sensations, he dared not try naming. And there was no trouble involved – though he would never admit it, least of all to himself, he could never see anything to do with Laura as other than enjoyable…

And it was fifteen minutes to midnight, when for the first, albeit very brief time, his suppressed humanity emerged, and he finally let his lips brush over hers in contact, almost non-existent, yet just as true as any normal kiss…

* * *

…_She was laughing wholeheartedly at something he had said, almost shaking in his warm, strong embrace. A stray lock of her scarlet mane had fallen over her gaze and she tried several unsuccessful times to place it behind her ear. However, next she knew, a large hand's fingers gently brushed it away and tucked it for her. She stopped her laughter abruptly, her pair of sapphires meeting twin emeralds and staying locked there, mesmerised. _

_He asked puzzled "Why did you end? You know I love your laughter – it's so soothing, such a rich, beautiful sound. Almost as captivating as you…" a smile danced on his lips._ _Laura shrugged "I guess, I myself got enticed – by you…There's a whole world in your eyes, if you haven't noticed." Her smile reflected his, her eyes lit up with contentment. He chuckled "No, can't have realised it, I was too preoccupied with drowning myself in yours, my love – with or without you there, all I seem to be able to think of, for over two years now, is you."_

"_Joker!" she playfully slapped his arm, causing both him and herself to laugh, their mutual joy ringing in the melodic tones. "So, that's what you want to do, eh?" he replied humorously and as she wriggled herself out of his arms and ran for it, he was on his feet in one fluid motion and with the speed of light, he raced after her._ _Mere seconds later, he, out of nowhere, caught her upper-arms from behind, exclaiming "Got you!" He whirled her around, bringing them face to face – both of them slightly flushed. Their breath had all of a sudden quickened and it had nothing to do with the chase. Sparkling cerulean met dazzling green and Laura whispered huskily "You cheated – it was supposed to be without any powers used…"_

"_Mmm, I'd love for you to punish me then, Milady." Smirking, she let her slender arms go around his neck, as his own muscular ones encircled her waist, and her lips caught his in a hard, almost bruising kiss, him – responding just as fervently. "Looks like someone is hungry tonight…" his eyes were two smouldering, emerald embers, the passion in them mirroring that in her own azure gaze._ _She smirked playfully _"_And 'Hunger should be satisfied, before it becomes destructive.', as you like to say." _

"_That was in a different context, but I shall be more than happy, to implement it here too." He smiled "I love you – you know that?" Laura felt her heart tear "How can I ever forget…But I…" He brought a finger to her lips, gently cutting her off "Shh, it's okay – I know you need time, and I will wait till the end of all of it, if need be, my soul. Do not trouble yourself on my behalf." She averted her eyes, unable to look at him, guilt soaring through her like poison. Yet, a loving hand took her chin and turned her gaze back to him "Do not feel remorse, my love – I am patient, and what I already see you're feeling, is more, than I ever expected. Especially from a woman like you – and it is more than enough to me."_

"_How can you never anticipate someone loving you, when you are the most incredible man there is – and trust me, I got some experience in that department." He was truly overwhelmed – she, who could have any man, chose __**him**__. God in Heaven, what had he done to deserve someone like her… And then, a terrible fear gripped his insides, making his blood, despite having eaten just several hours ago, run cold in his veins. There was no way in this world that she truly existed - Laura was simply a vision, a figment of his very wild imagination, and he'd have to wake up way too soon, only to find himself thrust back into the void she'd pulled him from. _

_However, just then, he felt two small hands cup his face, as his lover fixed him with a serious gaze, meaning business "No, you aren't dreaming, Tar – I am very much real. And you better believe it, mister, 'cause you won't get rid of me that easily!" she added on a humorous note, then went on "I'm with you – yes, with __**you,**__ for, I don't care about all other men. And how could I, when the only one that matters to me is right here!" That did it – he could hold himself back no longer. Letting all his pent-up love and passion for the slender woman in his arms take over him completely, he took her in a fierce embrace, as the pale moonlight once more remained the sole witness to their nocturnal reunion…_

Laura sat up abruptly in bed, two stray tears gliding down her pale cheeks, as the dream/memory's full impact settled in. Looking around herself, she remembered she was in _**Riddle's **_chambers, currently in his four-poster. And at that, cold, inexplicable anger took over her, making her almost snarl in inner pain. To hell with him, with everything, she thought, no longer able to withhold the choking sob that escaped her chest, causing her to double over, her face buried in her hands "Tarsus…I was such a bloody fool-" Laura suddenly cut off, feeling a hand gently brush her shoulder. She hastily used the sheet to wipe her eyes, and whirled up from her bent position, only to meet a pair of onyx pools, full of…concern?

He could've sworn her eyes had been awash with restrained pain, yet with the speed of light they had narrowed at him, steely and furious. Before he could blink, her wand's tip was pressed forcefully at his jugular vein, and her voice was a cold hiss, when she snarled at him "What do you think you're doing?" Keeping his emotionless exterior easily in place, Voldemort prompted himself to hold back his, already harshly suppressed, worry. His even voice came out smoothly and under perfect control "I had left the living room door open, lest you needed anything and I just happened to hear some sounds coming from your direction. I thought you might be in pain…from the wound, that is, so I came to check matters, in case you required any assistance."

"I'm fine." she bit out even darker, yet, seemingly unsure, she added on a more relaxed note "The wound's alright…But thanks, anyway." He noticed she turned swiftly away from him, trying to hide the unmistakable, albeit barely noticeable, tear-traces on her cheeks "Were you crying?" he asked more softly, than he had any original intention to, one hand reaching tentatively up to her face. "No!" Laura snapped, pushing his fingers angrily away, but then her outburst melted into a whisper "Leave me alone – please…"

He sighed unnoticed and turned to leave, deciding to respect her wishes, when something registered with him. If he was to ever gain her trust, what better opportunity than the present? Never mind, that behind his all plan-connected motives, in fact lay another, vastly different one. The same, that he brushed aside, unwilling to experience the consequences, should he dare to face it. For, he had no idea how in the world it had been born in him, in the first place – the simple desire to take away her pain, to cause her to truly see him as someone she could count on…

And he stayed, though for once, not really caring about the reasoning or the grand scheme behind it all. Instead, sitting carefully on his bed, on her right side, he pushed off his knee-high boots and pulled himself up, till his back was against the bed-board and the pillows, before he did the last thing, his mind would have ever considered conceivable…

Laura had been too preoccupied by her thoughts to notice his presence. Not until two strong, muscular arms gently, but firmly, pulled her towards what turned out to be a very _**bare,**_ broad, male chest – he was naked to the waist, a fact she had missed before. Then, why, in the Fire's name, did she notice something like _**this**_ now? Surely, she knew he was very well-sculpted beneath his robes – they hid nothing in his physique, but why did it have to matter, at all?

However, she was too tired to object, so she just let him take her in his arms, her back resting to his hard, naked torso, skin touching skin, the sudden warmth that passed between them was beyond anything, she had felt before…and she could sense he experienced it too. Letting herself unwillingly relax against him – he apparently lay sideways, so she could use him as sort-of pillow, Laura found herself being slowly turned, till her right cheek lay on where his heart was, supposedly – though, despite the steady thuds, she seriously doubted he really had one. Still, she let herself rest on his chest, her left arm reaching out of its own accord to tentatively cup his right bicep, while his own arm snaked around her small waist, adjusting in the process her blankets, so they covered her properly.

Furies in the Fourth Realm! When her bare skin had touched his, silken hair tickling his chest, the mere slight brush had caused something inside him to explode, the waves of energy intensifying the closer their naked upper-bodies came. He had _**never**_ felt anything of the sort with _**any**_ of the other women he had been with. Yet, he was perfectly aware it had nothing to do with lust – at least not on his part. For, it wasn't so much his body's reaction, as that of his frozen heart and mutilated soul, and even his calculating, all-logical mind. Something he had thought altogether impossible…

And a realisation, which he had stubbornly ignored thus far, now finally engulfed him whole, running powerfully, akin to a tidal wave, through his whole self - that from this moment on, he'd never want, in any sense of the word, another woman, but the one he held in his arms tonight. There was something – something in her, that called out to _**him, **_to every singly bit of him, even the deepest, darkest elements and the fiercely buried human parts of his self, and they, almost desperately, longed to respond to that magnetic summons… Feeling her hand encircle his upper-arm, he, instinctively more than anything, wrapped his own round her waist and softly drew her even closer. And despite all the reasons against it, he had to admit, that they did fit perfectly into each other – and his arms were the only place she truly _**belonged **_in…

However, right then, his cold logic surfaced once more and Lord Voldemort finally was able to fully regain himself. He would use this situation to his advantage, to make her _**his**_ completely – until she was unable to deny him…or her own feelings, as the case may be, and then he'd put forward his greater scheme. True, she would be extremely difficult to ensnare – being as cold and distant to him, as he was to everyone else, his greatest challenge, but as welcome as could be…

Capturing only her mind or soul would be impossible, he knew now – she was way too strong and independent for this to work, and it was no longer enough. Not for him, in any case, as he wanted to have _**her,**_ _**all**_ of her, before he would claim her as his most powerful ally. Yet, one question still haunted him like the plague - why was it then, that all he really wanted to do, was simply hold her close, like he did now, and stay that way for eternity…?

For, he daren't admit, he had also chosen to proceed thus, because once pronounced his warrior, she'd very probably become even emptier than she was now, would lose again the fire, he so wanted to ignite in her once more. And he _**yearned**_, more than anything, to know what it _**felt**_ like, to really be with _**her**_…

Unnoticed by him, Laura herself smiled just as cruelly, as he had, against his chest. The man had to learn his first big lesson – never assume a Chosen is asleep, unconscious or dead, no matter how much it looks like it. And never let your thoughts wander outside your mind too freely…

So, he wanted to seduce her, trick her into surrendering to him. Well, she was about to teach him one, for thinking she could be manipulated! And with that last thought, Laura finally let sleep claim her once more, unwittingly sinking in the scheming bastard's hard chest and surprisingly warm embrace…

* * *

"You guys, she's waking up! Laurie, sweet, can you hear me; are you okay?" Eli's voice took Laura by surprise, as she tentatively opened her heavy lids, only to find herself in her bed, back in their dorm, with both Vera and Eli's concerned faces above her. "Hi, you lot – good to see you all fine and kicking again!" she smiled, but her exhaustion caused it to be a weak one. They laughed merrily "I think, it's _**us **_who should be saying that about _**you, **_sis – almost scared us to death, you know. Especially, when we tried to find you and imagine our shock, as Van Dyin says you're with _**Riddle**_ of all people!" Eli couldn't hide her distrust for the man and frankly Laura didn't blame her – her own was still there too.

"Thank Merlin, that at least he took care of her, and didn't do more harm." Vera added "We _**have **_to give him credit for _**that**_!" Laura snickered at her dark-haired friend, unable to withhold a humorous remark "Don't tell me you'd go all easy on him now, just because of it?"

"I don't know about Rita, but we could ask the same of you, I think." A third voice suddenly came and Ale Tern walked in too, a huge grin on her face "Welcome back, Cap!" she put in, coming to hug Laura, just like the other two had done. Their redheaded friend tried to stand in bed, but all three pushed her gently back on the pillows "U-un, nothing of the sort for you, sis – special orders." Laura scowled "Who from?" and the others winked at her "One certain Dark Arts Master, Captain." Laura looked at Ale confused and the green-eyed brunette explained "He brought you back here this morning, and told us you're out of danger and to see to you. You were sound asleep, mind you, didn't even move a muscle during the whole thing."

"He brought me? I must have been quite the sight, floating through the corridors." The mere thought of it made Laura frown with distaste, but her friends' Cheshire grins caused her to eye them baffled "Okay, you lot, what are you so gloating about?"

"Well," Eli started, unable to wipe the silly smile off her face, making Laura even more exasperated "It's just, that you weren't floating, sweet. He carried you - in his arms, as if you were weighing nothing." The redhead simply gaped "He, what?" was all she could say. Vera chimed in "He _**carried**_ you, sis – you know, one arm under your knees, the other under your back. He practically cradled you to him, for all that is, almost tenderly. You should have seen, he was so careful, as if you were of glass."

Laura now really let her jaw fall and then Ale dropped the biggest bomb "Plus, you had your head on his chest…" Laura's voice had all of a sudden become tight in her throat "I can't have…" but Eli couldn't withhold from confirming her worst fear "Oh, trust me, sweet – you definitely did. And he gave us strict orders to take care of you, or we'd face his wrath." Pure shock, that was the best way to describe the redhead's current state of mind, but then she remembered something – yes, that explained it all, his ingenious thoughts from last night. Or was it last night? "What is it today?" she asked the others, having lost her time perception.

Ale looked at her watch "Monday, Cap – you were apparently recuperating the whole of Sunday." Panic rushed through Laura, though it had nothing to do with her spending the entire Sunday in Riddle's chambers. "Damn – I'll be late for class!" she exclaimed frantically, yet the three by her bed smiled, and Vera patted her shoulder "Relax, sis – the Headmaster gave the day off to the whole school. He knew all of us twelve will be still a bit worse for wear, after the game."

"What happened in there exactly? Did they find out?" Laura couldn't help bringing it up. "Actually, it turned out to be a real mess – they had used Dementor and Boggart magic for you to face, but the whole combination proved explosive." Eli started. "Yeah, they had forgotten about your powers, Cap." Ale added "And when we went in the Forest, the magic they put there activated prematurely – they assume, you used your telepathy, at some time then." And Laura said, remembering "I did, actually…I probed the route ahead for any dangers. But how does this tie with all we saw?"

"Van Dyin said, when your power came in touch with the other types of magic, it amplified their result, taking them out of control and causing us to experience the effects, not only in our minds, but physically too." Now she remembered – Dementors and Boggarts naturally had a bit of the Power of Mind weaved in their essence. And with her fully developed one, combining with the sheer quantity of their magic used in the task, what had happened was a more than possible result. Plus, it explained the lack of traces – they were all in her mind. Since it had been the catalyst, it had then cleared every bit of evidence of her Power's manifestation, sucking it back in like a vortex. "Don't worry yourself, though, sweet!" Eli put in, seeing Laura's face darken with guilt "Everyone knows it was only a mishap – no one's blaming you."

"Still, I endangered all of you." Her gaze was downcast, but the other three, along with another three sudden arrivals – male this time, all hugged her tightly and Travis eyed her sternly "Now listen to me and listen well – there was _**nothing**_ you could've done. N_**o one **_knew such a combo will react that way, so stop beating yourself about it! _**We**_ believe in you, 'cause we know you'd always do _**all**_ in your power to keep us safe, exactly what you _**did**_ back there. What happened in the Forest doesn't change the fact that you're our leader. And we'll follow you to Hell and back, if need be!"

The sheer seriousness of every word he'd spoken, and the equally determined gazes around her, made Laura feel her heart soar with pride in them. They truly were something - her team. Caught out of words, all she could say was simply "Thank you – all of you. You don't know how much this means to me…" And all was fine, until Lukas put in "Well, we could always make an educated guess, I suppose." causing the TA's to double over in giggles, and the girls to look at him and roll their eyes…

Everyone sat in the Hall for breakfast the next day, with Laura fully back in the swing of things. True to her group's word, no one indeed saw her as responsible for the fiasco – whether to her face, or behind her back, though those who usually dared to speak about her the latter way, weren't many. In fact, she was hailed as the woman of the hour by both the Chosen and the regular students alike, when she had first emerged from their dorm, wholly recovered.

The eighters had sauntered over to the 7-th years' table to congratulate the team, since no one had had the opportunity to do so before, with them all recuperating. Axel, Julian and Nick flashed brilliant (and to the TA's and Lukas' surprise, genuine) smiles at Laura and Co, while the other three guys had been more reserved, with McBryte outright scowling at the Saturday match victors.

After a hearted discussion of the game and the ones to come, the six guys left the other group to run to Dark Arts class, while the latter made their way to Weapons and Technologies. And while Ale grabbed and whisked Dimitry Brandner away, when she spotted him pass in the corridor; the remaining six finally got down to discussing in whispers the warning they had received, during the second part of the game.

"Laurie? What is it, sis?" Vera asked concerned their suddenly all too quite friend, and the others eyed the red-haired witch with the same worry, thinking she was still in pain from the blood loss. Laura shook her head though "I was just contemplating – that's all, about the brand."

"How does it figure in the whole thing?" Trev enquired puzzled "I thought it was simply an illusion we experienced, but with real effects." Laura shook her head explaining "The thing is, that it's the mark that bled, not a new wound, and that happens only when He reaches out to me." now, her friends positively gaped at her in utter shock. "But it…He wasn't real, right? So, it can't have the actual effect on you." Eli reasoned. "Unless, that ties up with the warning…" Lukas offered pensively. "Figures…" Travis put in "Yet, he can't possibly be _**here**_ – the Guardians would've felt it and besides, Grindelwald doesn't have the Power of Fire."

"Yes, that's a mystery to me too." Laura agreed "The tree-demons spoke of someone wielding it, without being rightfully entitled to, but I don't see how that can happen. A soul-sharing curse, or a power transfer one, won't affect it, nor will the Fourth Unforgivable - not in that way, at least. And there isn't anyone left, he could've taken pure enough blood from, to fuse it in his own magic's flow - certainly hasn't taken any from me… Yet, this time he was different – twelve years ago, he used something that awfully resembled the Fire, and I had sensed this aura around him. Now it had grown, and like before, it was still somewhat…demonic, something not of our world. As if he wasn't completely human – it felt…like my own does. Not to mention, that the things he said were completely baffling. He knew something, only my family does, which we certainly keep just between us and he didn't get it from me either, mind you."

"Maybe, we should let things unfold for a while." Trevor suggested and Laura nodded "Perhaps that's indeed the best course of action, for the time being. We'll have to wait – but still be on our guard, we never know, when something's going to happen. As if Riddle wasn't enough…" And truth be told, one could never be sure, when it came to them. But as the group proceeded swiftly to their class, they all knew one for certain – things were back to normal. Well, as normal as it got in Durmstrang, anyway!

* * *

A quiet, but firm knock on her window, woke Laura immediately, and she sat bolt upright in bed, turning to see who it was "Nick? What is it? Something wrong?" He nodded "Julian…" was all he said and Laura instantly sobered up "I'm coming!" she said, as she quickly got dressed, brushed her hair before tying it up, and got her wand. "Do you want me to take the others, too?"

"If they wish to come, they're welcome – Jason isn't going, so there shouldn't be a problem." Laura looked at her peacefully slumbering friends and felt a pang of guilt. "No. I won't wake them up – they need their _**beauty**_ sleep." she smiled at them "But we'll get the guys on the way out – they'll meet us in the entrance!" she explained, as they flew on their brooms to wait down for the TA's and Lukas, to whom she had sent a mental call, clarifying the situation and they had agreed to help.

But fifteen minutes later, they still were nowhere to be seen. "Where are they?" Laura wondered out loud, as she and the other guys waited for the three. Suddenly, however, voices from the foyer brought the whole group closer to investigate, and they gasped at the scene they witnessed.

The 7-th year boys had, in fact, needed quite the time to sneak out to the entrance undetected, but as they were about to exit, a light rustle from the shadows had caused them all to fall into battle mode, wands pointed at the intruder.

"And where are you going, at this time of night?" Voldemort asked them calmly, eyeing each with his distinctive, penetrating look. They had shut their minds, but he had still been able to get bits concerning a problem. "Look, Professor – we just have something urgent to do! And we can't sit around talking – time is of the essence!" Trevor Atkins tried to reason. The Dark Lord swept his look over them again "What is this pressing matter of yours?" yet they simply shot him defiant gazes. "You are not going to talk…" it was a statement not a question, so he proceeded in the standard way "Then you get detentions, for a month each – with me. And you are not going anywhere, until I get to the bottom of this."

They were pissed off now – he was holding them way too long, and they knew Laura and the eighters were already waiting. So they went for the only possible course of action left. "If we have to do this, then so be it." Lukas stated coldly, as he and the others pointed their wands towards their Dark Arts Master.

He eyed them incredulous and a bit amused – surely, they wouldn't _**really **_attack him. He could fight them off easily enough, but that meant hurting them…and ruining any chances of his scheme ever succeeding. The dilemma was eating at him full force… Until, out of the blue, came his safe escape, as a voice rang out, even and emotionless "Don't!" yet Voldemort, instead of relaxing, felt himself stiffen, as he'd know that voice anywhere. And true to his perceptions, his eyes grew wide, for, there she stood – wand out, but not pointing at anyone, least of all him.

"You as well, Miss Snape?" he couldn't hide his shock, also because Laura was the only female in the group. Her eyes narrowed "Yes, Professor, and if you don't want me to take you out, one way or another, you'll let them join us. Besides, Van Dyin knows about this – we have express permission to deal with this type of emergency." She was all calm and collected, didn't even blink, and he couldn't help an inner grin – she was his match alright!

Still, Voldemort couldn't help but feel in the dark – something he really detested. If the Headmaster knew, why hadn't he informed the other teachers? Or he had just forgotten to tell the new ones, while the others knew? Whatever the situation, he wasn't going to stay unaware – especially, if this could help with his plans.

"Are you _**truly**_ going to assault me, Miss Snape? Wouldn't you get into _**very**_ big trouble for something like that?" Laura herself was now angry – the nerve of that guy! Her friend was out there somewhere, Merlin only knew in what condition, and he could simply sit here, talking about the rules! "Listen, Riddle!" she addressed him exasperated, not bothering with respect – she really hadn't the time for it. Strangely, he didn't seem offended at all – in fact, he appeared to _**like **_her calling him by his name, but she shrugged it off and went on "One of my friends could be in a lot _**bigger **_trouble right now, than I could ever be. I can only get expelled, about which I don't care, but he may end up dead! So, either don't stand in our way, or come and help us! The choice is yours, though make it quick – we're losing time! And I promise to explain as much as I can, when we're finished."

Voldemort was in a state of near shock again – she'd go that far for a friend? Yet, had he ever doubted that? Salazar, every time, he discovered a whole new universe in her! And the more he got to know her, the more he was drawn to her, no matter how much he resisted it… If she'd do that for a friend, what length was she ready to go for someone _**dearer**_…Wait a minute, what, in Darkness' name, was he thinking?

Getting a fast grip of himself, the dark wizard, however, quickly resolved on his course of action – he had to gain her trust after all, and it just seemed that life liked him lately, since it kept presenting him with all these excellent opportunities for doing so. And as the big clock in the entrance showed fifteen minutes to midnight, he made his choice…

* * *

They had split in pairs to cover a bigger perimeter, with Riddle deciding to join Laura. The others were quite apprehensive about it, she knew, but thankfully hadn't shown it. '_I have to keep an eye on him, just in case. And he'll be more useful that way._' she had sent to all of them, and they reluctantly let her go with the older wizard.

"Now, to find Julian, we have to use your Power." she started right on the point "You must connect to the Island's soul!" Voldemort looked at her, completely confused "What are you talking about? _**Connect**_ with the _**Island**_? That's impossible, not to mention ridiculous." She glared at him, completely serious "I meant what I said – you have one of the Four Powers, and they are the foundations of the Island's creation, the substance of its soul. Anyone who has a Power can sort-of tune in with the Island and feel what's happening in every part of it – we can find Julian a lot easier that way! And hurry up – concentrate and let your Power flow through you completely!"

Not wanting to argue, he closed his eyes, letting the Darkness loose, sensing it overwhelm him, take over his insides entirely. He felt like he was falling, drowning in it almost, and suddenly, he felt another, separate bit of his own Power drawing him towards itself. And out of the blue, a myriad of perceptions swam through his whole being – sensations, energies, thoughts, pains and hundreds of different life forces. He reached out, searching for young Von Trier, and he heard Laura's voice sounding so far away "Check only half – we'll lose too much time, if you do the whole! I'll use some Tracking Spells for the rest." She had a point, and so he did as asked. Oddly enough, he could now sense her presence a lot closer now, than any of the others, but he didn't dwell on this, concentrating on the task at hand instead.

Soon, the life energy they were looking for came close enough, but it slipped away, just as he was about to pinpoint it. "Don't worry, I got him!" he heard Laura's voice once again, her presence even stronger than before. Still, he brushed that strange fact aside, as he snapped out of the trance-like state, opening his eyes, only to see his partner had hers closed for whatever reason. He was going to ask her if she was okay, his insides stiffening slightly at the though of her being hurt…again, but she beat him to it, coming to lock her gaze with his, smiling "Let's go – he's southeast of here, near the Supreme Guardians' lair!" And as he took her hand, unwilling to face her wrath, if he dared a more intimate contact, they disappeared through the shadows, using his Power to travel, since it was the fastest way. Though he'd never admit it, he'd conceded to using it, mostly due to the close contact it offered, and he, oddly enough, no matter how hard he tried, didn't seem able to suppress his longing for her touch…

They appeared next to the border of the Haunted Grounds, just in time to see a swirl of water flow on the surface, right towards them. Voldemort eyed it suspiciously, pointing his wand straight at it, but Laura's hand pushed it away. "No! That's one of ours!" she called to him and he withdrew puzzled. But her words were quickly explained, when the stream flowed _**upwards**_ forming a human shape, until it took clear features, revealing, to the Dark Lord's shock, Axel Lindern. He shook some water off his clothes and breathed out "Thank the Guardians, I met you here! I had quite the run-in with a couple of Nayars, and barely escaped!"

"You have stream demons here?" Voldemort couldn't hide his surprise – Nayars were really hard to find, and very vicious to keep around anyway, but the best sentries one could want for any water basin. Laura simply gave him a slight nod and he barely suppresses a wow. Right then however, a violent growl broke the air and the three looked at each other worriedly – they all knew what _**that**_ howl belonged to. And just as they were about to move towards their ultimate target, they heard a loud rustle, and their raised wands met with dishevelled-looking Georg and Nick, the latter's arm bleeding badly. Laura's eyes grew wide "What happened? Are you both okay?"

"We stumbled on some…" Georg started, but was roughly cut off, when a huge, hairy shape emerged from the trees, yellow eyes blazing; its long fangs were as sharp and shiny as razors. Voldemort though immediately took care of the werewolf with an effortless Avada Kedavra. "That was close!" he breathed, but Laura was looking at something else. "Watch out!" she yelled at him, and he turned in time to escape the claws of another lycan, which had been right behind the first. Before anyone could fire a spell though, Laura threw one of her swords at the monster. It made an elegant swirl in the air, golden-scarlet blazes glazed its blade, erupting out of nowhere, until it finally ended embedded deep in the beast's chest.

The Dark Lord's surprises that night had seemingly not finished yet as he watched, eyes wide, the flames engulf the lycan's body, the very moment the sword pierced it, turning it first into a small pyre and, in mere seconds, to a pile of ashes. _**That **_wasn't supposed to be possible – they weren't the originals! Or were they...? But then, that would also mean Laura was…no! No time for that now, he sternly told himself.

Laura, in the mean time, sauntered over to Nick to check his arm, but he stopped her "We have to get Julian first – it's just a scratch. Don't worry!" she didn't believe him, yet decided to drop it, as she didn't want to argue either. All of them quickly moved towards the lair's entrance, where they saw its surroundings were seemingly dead – trees and vegetation apparently _**drained **_of life. And the three 7th-years and Lars were battling a figure engulfed in pure energy. They seemed quite prone already, so the new forces were a welcome addition.

"Engage him, while I get through to him!" Laura called at the guys and they did as asked, hurling spells at the light-surrounded spectre. She, on the other hand, summoned all of her Mind Power, forcing her way through the barriers he had erected around his psyche _'Julian, it's me – I know you're somewhere here, and I'll find you, no matter what!'_

The figure smirked at her _'Don't bother – I am in control and none of you stand a chance against me!' _but Laura didn't give up, retorting sarcastically _'You think so? Well, I'd __**really**__ hate to disillusion you.'_ And with that, not caring that Riddle saw, she concentrated all her telepathic power and knocked him out cold. Then, she started rearranging his mind, bringing the real Julian up and locking the energy phantom deep enough, not to come out any time soon. Finally, his limp body fell on the ground, and she herself dropped to her knees, tired from the sheer amount of power she had used. "He's himself again." was all she managed to say. All of the guys had surrounded her, ready to help in case she collapsed, but she let Riddle be the only one to support her to her feet – let him think his plan was working!

And indeed, that was exactly what he thought, as the others, except Dominic, Disapparated with Julian straight to the Med Wing. Voldemort relished in the moment – she had let _**him**_ touch her, only him. It strangely elated him, more than the success of their venture ever could, but the display of power she had put hadn't gone unnoticed by him, and he marked it to ask about it later. Not that he really expected her to spill her secrets, anyway – still, it wouldn't hurt to enquire.

However, he didn't have much time to ponder this, as he felt Laura wriggle out of his gentle hold to examine Habberland's bleeding arm. Apparently, something in the wound prevented it from healing, even with the strongest spell. "One of the werewolves clawed at me." he finally explained and Laura whispered, the worry choking her voice "And we delayed it way too much… Stubborn bastard – that's what you are, you know that?" she told him sternly, and he gave her a puppy-eyed look. The Dark Lord saw her beautiful face contort with strain, as if she were debating with herself whether to do something, she didn't particularly like. "Laurie – don't!" Dominic, apparently knowing what she was thinking, almost pleaded, but Laura shot back "It's the only way…" and then, Voldemort could only stare at the scene unfolding before him.

She closed her eyes for the briefest of moments, and when they opened, they were consumed by the same flames, he had seen minutes ago dancing on her sword's blade. Laura then took Dominic's arm and placed her hand on the gash, gripping it so tightly, it caused him to visibly wince. And, oddly enough without even moving her lips, she spoke in a language, the Dark Lord, by some miracle, happened to recognise "**Hesta ver aënne, ei Tellar Saeddi, grienn hef mer lern trisnir mer agerra, sertall der Prenre Laëngga Ratta! Kar merre harra, es utellirne besnal grist!" **

And he suddenly understood exactly what she was saying, the words running through his mind, while he tried to assimilate all they said – 'Hear this command, Power of the Sacred Fire, running in my veins by my birthright, as last of the leading bloodline of the Demon Twins! Heed my wish, and burn out the lycan venom!' And he saw their impact – Laura's whole body became bathed in a scarlet-and-gold aura, which glowed even brighter while she spoke and then the light burst into flames.

She gripped Habberland's arm even tighter, whilst a small rivulet of her fire entered swiftly in his veins, running through his body – a golden illumination showing its precise location. It seemed to be 'searching' for something, until it returned to the gash, flowing out, but now with a dark-green colour. It formed a small orb, which then became less and less dense, till it melted in the air without a trace. Dominic collapsed from the whole experience, and Laura looked at the completely speechless Dark Lord with a faint smile "He's cured." before herself crumbling from the effort, Voldemort swiftly catching her prone form in his arms, once again. He couldn't help but smirk inwardly – it would seemingly become a habit, one that he didn't mind it in the slightest… Hang on, where did _**that **_come from?...

* * *

After depositing Dominic in the sick bay too, the Dark Lord returned to his chambers, and to the soundly sleeping Laura – in his bed, once more. He had left her only for an instant, to get her friend to Linecker, but not before he had made sure she was alright and only exhausted. His mind was burning with questions, yet he was battling himself whether to pose them at all – she would perhaps think, he was trying to pry too much.

She had caught on his musings, while pretending to be asleep, and was seriously debating whether to confirm or reject his conclusions. But then again, there was no other way to explain all that had happened – not the Power of Fire, at least. So, she decided on the only possible course of action, given the circumstances "I'll start from the very beginning, I guess." Her voice seemingly startled him, as he whirled around, taken aback by her being awake.

Still, he sat down calmly on his bed, just as close as he had some nights ago, and it made Laura slightly uneasy, though she didn't show it. "I'm listening." was his emotionless reply, and his companion nodded. "To cut a long story short – Julian was born with what muggles call a 'split personality'. He's _**not **_insane, though – nothing of the sort, but at random times his buried half comes out full blast and wrecks all havoc around, beside draining his normal self, both mentally and physically.

"It happens to be a sort of an 'energy vampire' – he feeds on the vigour of everything living, which is why all around the place, we found him at, was dead-looking. Van Dyin knows about this, and he arranged for us to be kind of his personal guard – we're his friends and we're Chosen, so we can handle him during his spurts. As you saw, we're not that bad at it – we all have our personal _**talents.**_ Axel, you witnessed, is an Omnimorph – he can take the form of absolutely anything." That took him by surprise - he had in fact heard of them, but they were ever rarer than Metamorphmagi, who were as scarce as it got.

However, Laura's story got him even more, and he continued listening closely as she went on "Since last year, though, Julian's attacks became more violent and the rift between his halves - bigger." she saw the question budding in his eyes and decided she might as well tell him. After all, she was sure it wouldn't be anything new to him "Your predecessor, Antony Holborn, was actually a traitor Chosen, who used to be Grindelwald's leading war commander – a man, in fact called Alexis Danninos. He had infiltrated the school in the hope of disposing of all of us, who had survived the war – you can say he had a personal grudge.

"The Headmaster had discovered all this but left it to us to deal with him. Danninos had been experimenting on a new spell, which we used eventually to...get rid of him." She sighed sadly "But not before he had succeeded in hitting Julian with a modification of the Fourth Unforgivable. And it caused his condition to worsen. Though at least, the bastard paid for that stunt..." Laura couldn't suppress the cruel delight in her voice. And to her deepest shock, his otherwise dead, onyx gaze, was full of understanding and something else, she couldn't place – was it…compassion? No, it simply couldn't be - he wasn't the type to ever experience _**that**_ feeling...

Voldemort had though, caught the subtle hints behind her words. It had been her who had killed the man - in cold blood, and frankly he'd never blame her. He himself had done that on quite the regular manner, and with her fierce attachment to her friends, it was something to be expected. However, before he could move on to the more delicate matters, she beat him to it "You want to know about what I did to Nick."

And all he could muster, perplexed was "How…" but she smiled slightly "It's all over you – one has to be blind to miss it. Yes, I have the Power of Fire." He couldn't help but gape – it was true, after all! So he simply couldn't hold back from asking "Then, all you said, while healing him, is fact? And how did I understand it too, whilst he didn't? He didn't even seem to hear it."

"It's just, that you, as a descendant of one of the Four, have the ability to comprehend, and probably speak as well, **Trevvert** – the ancient wizarding language, the same one I used, to heal Nick from the werewolf poison. As for the rest, the Fire and the Darkness are opposites, and they can cancel or destroy each other's effects and traces. Werewolves have naturally the Darkness, which is why you could kill that lycan so easily, and the Fire is the only effective cure for their magic's results on a human.

"I did it first with one of my swords – yes, they _**are **_the originals, and then the normal way, through direct contact. He had been under the venom's power for too long, so I had to use a bit more of my abilities than usual. And before you, indeed, is the last descendant in the line of the younger of the Demon Twins, as they were called. But only Aiden Langratte could wield the Fire completely, and it was passed down exclusively in his lineage.

"His older twin Brant had the Power too, but to a lesser extent. Each possessed one of my swords, and they can be used solely by someone, in whose veins flows rightfully the Blood of Fire. If they have the ability too, they can channel it through these two weapons." Laura finished her explanation, during the whole of which, the Dark Lord could do nothing, but stare.

Even he didn't know that much about his own ancestry and he had researched it as far as possible! Perhaps, though, many answers were simply hidden and maybe, he was at the right place to find them. After all, Laura had mentioned _**four**_ Powers… Still, unable to deny the fiery young woman her rest, he decided to stop for now, and let sleep claim his Lady Firestar. He smirked inwardly - looked like his guess, as to a suitable title for her, had been correct.

She was a Fire, both inside and out… _**His **_Fire, in one way or another, and despite all, his mind's cold logic told him, against such notion. And he swore – an oath as powerful as an Unbreakable Vow, that he'd be the one to make her flames blaze once again with their full force and beauty. Though, he knew excellently, that in the end, he wasn't referring to her powers…


	6. Falls Of Thunder, Strokes Of Lightning

**A/N: Sorry for the long delay, but I was swamped in exams until very recently, so I couldn't update sooner. Still, here's Chapter 5 – don't forget to tell me what u think! Yeah, I know the title's crappy, but the rest shouldn't be!**

* * *

CHAPTER 5: Falls Of Thunder, Strokes Of Lightning

He watched patiently, simply admiring the beauty of the coast under the pale moonlight. That was something he was undoubtedly good at, and highly so – observing. The eyes and ears of their group of three, he often caught on many things that evaded everybody else, a quality, which had bought him what he had wanted the most – freedom, the same he needed to find what he longed for.

Of course, most would only laugh in his face; reprimand him for chasing illusions. But the philosopher in him refused, point blank, to listen to such 'voices of reason'. For, Abraxas Malfoy might not have always felt himself bound to reality, yet his head was definitely not in the clouds, when it came to his chief conviction. Because, his inner voice told him the truth – that it was simply out there. And he knew better than to not listen to his guts, when important matters were at issue.

So, he had followed his instincts, ending up in a location, whose very name brandished the kind of life he had always dreamt of. The Island of Thunder and Lightning…A place, whose untamed, unrestrained spirit he could finally sense fusing slowly in his veins, akin to the most addictive, yet, equally life-giving, poison there was. Like tonight…Was the moon that ethereal and bright everywhere? Or maybe only here… After all, back where he used to call it 'home', it wasn't half as beautiful. There had been no silvery glimmer, engulfing every single bit of his surroundings, to give the whole scene the unearthly, mysterious air.

It was as if these were two completely different worlds, separated by an infinite, insuperable void… And that applied equally to the people inhabiting them. The ones here were so magnetic, and inspired, so utterly enjoying every single moment, so much more intense, than those who lived off the Island. Literary pulsing with life, they were wild, passionate and free. And he wanted, no – _**longed,**_ to be like them…

A sudden splash brought him out of his reverie, and his gaze whirled towards the sea. The previously still, glittering surface of the water was now in tumult, as a figure started emerging from its depths. And Abraxas' breath was caught in his throat by the fascinating sight in front of him, to which the moonlit coast couldn't even compare. Dear Merlin, there was no way in this world she could be a mere earthling!

Around 5'8, with the figure of a classical Greek statue, and complexion as pale as the heavenly body above them both, she seemed more a creature out of a dream – a real vision. Her long, damp hair fanned out behind her, swept by the slight breeze, droplets of water glittering like diamonds on her flawless, alabaster skin. And now he knew - she was a siren, a true sea goddess, and he suddenly felt unworthy to even lay his eyes on her. Surely, an unearthly being would be enraged by a human, daring to so outrageously invade her privacy, but he couldn't tear his gaze away from her. For, he was irrevocably caught in whatever spell she had woven…

Transfixed, he watched the enchantress trace a hand over her damp locks and in mere seconds they were no longer wet. Now, he could see they were the colour of blood – and he finally had an inkling, as to who exactly the otherworldly vision was… She then sat on a nearby rock and began slowly brushing her wavy tresses, looking every inch a goddess, her graceful movements entrancing him deeper with every passing minute. Tying her scarlet mane up, she abruptly whirled in his direction and her twin pools of sapphire pierced right through him. Malfoy suddenly felt as if all his breath was knocked out of his lungs. And with the speed of lightning, she was mere feet away from him, her melodic laughter ringing in the night air "You can finally stop staring – I'm as much of flesh and blood, as any other woman."

"Laura…" he breathed spellbound, but her words took him sharply out of it, and his upbringing kicked in. "I…" he coughed, embarrassed to have intruded upon her in such a…delicate situation. She, however, didn't seem one bit uncomfortable, at all "No reason for any apologies, Professor – you're not the first man who's seen me like this. And it doesn't matter anyway." her smile was so warm, so reassuring.

"But what are you doing here, at this time of night?" he couldn't stop his obvious question or the slight blush creeping on his cheeks – thank the magical realm, that it was too dark to see it! Yet, Laura found this actually really amusing, by the looks of it "I'd think, it was clear enough – I felt like going for a swim. And before you ask, that" she indicated her black bra and bikini "is my bathing suit. No, it's not too scanty – otherwise, I wouldn't have enough freedom of movement, or comfort."

Malfoy drew a breath – that wasn't unexpected, but it didn't make the situation any less awkward for him. In the society he'd grown up, her outfit, not to mention her behaviour, would've easily been considered scandalous. Even muggles would have seen it as less than appropriate. She had, obviously, a pretty liberal upbringing – without any suffocating 'rules'. Unlike him, who had always followed them - the sole from the trio, to do so. Garth – always the rebel, had flat-out refused to abide by them. He was forced to, eventually, but broke them at every chance. As for Riddle, _**he**_ was fortunate enough to have never been obliged to follow any rules, to begin with…

Suddenly remembering their situation, Abraxas mentally kicked himself "But aren't you cold? After all, it is October, and seawater at this latitude must be freezing." He proceeded to take his cloak off to wrap it round her, but she held up a hand. "I'm using a warming charm, but if you insist…" she smiled at him, a bit mockingly, and in a swirl of light she was clad in a pair of pants and a navy-coloured sweater. "It's not that cold at all, actually." she added "And besides, the water in a radius of five miles round the Island is both desalted _**and**_ warm." Malfoy couldn't hide his confusion "How come? It's not normal for the Northern Baltic, as far as I know."

"You're quite knowledgeable of nature, aren't you Professor?" He nodded "I have quite the interest in it, I cannot deny. And let's dispense with the stiffening formalities, shall we? I am Abraxas." he had noticed that the teacher-student relations in Durmstrang were much closer and more relaxed, than would ever be considered acceptable, or respectable, at Hogwarts. But it wasn't like the pupils here were abusing this freedom – quite the contrary; they respected their professors even more, because of it. Laura herself seemingly liked his proposition, as she put in "So be it, then, Abraxas." His name rolled over her tongue so softly, that Malfoy had an odd feeling - like it was only ever meant for _**her**_ to say.

"See, there is quite the peculiar reason, why nature is a bit…distorted here." she humoured, and he found himself unable to stiffen a laughter of his own. "It all comes from the Four who created the Island – it's not a natural-born, so they allowed themselves quite the liberty when fulfilling their project." she explained, not noticing that he subconsciously drew closer to her "Since two of them were women, who loved doing what you just caught me do, they ensured that they had all the comfort needed. And that their hair wasn't ruined by the sea salt."

Her smile bore slight sarcasm, but then sincerity crept in her voice "To be honest, though, I'm glad they did it – saves me a second washing. But, as for the warmth, even without it, I'd be able to bathe in the sea – here, we have to be capable to swim in cold water." and Malfoy couldn't escape the nagging feeling, that her words carried a double meaning behind them. Whether it was intentional, he didn't know, but he suddenly found himself shivering by the mere thought of doing so literally. As if reading his mind, Laura shrugged "It's not that difficult – once you get used to it. Still, you can probably deduce quite easily, that even we prefer the altered state more."

He chuckled "And reasonably so, if I may add. But that is, sometimes, one of the bits about us who wield magic, which does not appeal to me. We may be powerful and all, yet, compared to muggles, who many of us consider helpless – mostly wrongly so, we are in fact the weaker." To his surprise, he found her listening intently, seemingly taken by his views "Our powers by definition distort the normality of things. We circumvent all laws of nature, bend or break every one of its rules, while they – the so-called 'weak', actually try to decipher and live by, even conquer these same. We cheat, but they, they have _**respect**_ – maybe not always, and increasingly not so these days, but still a lot more that _**we**_ have ever had. And for that, they have _**my**_ admiration, albeit grudgingly. For, after all," he smiled bitterly "I am a pureblood."

"You seem to be rather unusual then, judging by your way of looking at things." he failed to notice that her smile didn't reach her gaze, yet, the indisputable sincerity in her tone made him brighten "It's rare to meet someone like you – and more than pleasant, mind you." Laura's pools of navy-blue bore deep into his silver eyes, as if trying to decipher him, while she put in "But if you truly wish to be what you've always wanted, you must escape the past. And that means not only in your dreams…" he realised that she was in fact looking at his left hand - specifically, at his wedding band. "You still cling to your chains…" was her enigmatic retort to his confused gaze.

And before he could do or say anything more, her graceful form melted away into the slight mist, which had began to gradually fall over the Island, leaving him wondering, whether their encounter hadn't actually been simply the product of his imagination. _"You still cling to your chains…"_ her voice echoed in his mind – the voice of a vision, yet one, who had in fact been more real, than most of the people he had ever known. He regarded pensively the thick golden ring. _"Escape the past…"_

Mere seconds later, a small sparkle of metal blazed through the mist and landed with a light splash in the waters of the Northern Baltic, as Abraxas Malfoy was able to take his first breath of truly fresh air. It felt both cleansing and burning, amazing and painful – bittersweet, like every truly worthwhile sensation in life. He was _**free - **_finally able to sense the spirit of the Island coursing fully in his veins, and all because of an ethereal enchantress, who, he was now sure, was in fact its living incarnation…

* * *

He had finally returned to the castle, but his restlessness hadn't dissipated at all. So, instead of going to sleep, he had sauntered over to one of the walls, to watch the moon for a bit longer. Oddly enough though, he had been right - even with all modifications nature here was so much more real, vibrant, _**alive,**_ than anywhere else…

Suddenly, he heard a quite chuckle behind him "If you aren't careful, one might take you for a Nocturnal, Professor." Turning sharply, he was almost ready to cause bodily harm to whoever had been so imprudent, as to startle him, but calmed himself right on time to meet the amused face of Verita Gebhern. An exotic-type beauty – and one of Laura's best friends. "I can assure you, none of my ancestors are vampires, Miss Gebhern-" he began, slightly put-off, yet she stopped him "Vera or Rita, please."

Still feeling unexplainably uneasy, he nonetheless nodded "Then, Vera, what do I owe the company to?" She smiled "I guess you could blame sleeplessness. And sorry for that before." she smiled somewhat sheepishly "I just love joking on this topic, especially, seeing as to how there're quite a lot of them around." Malfoy could hardly suppress his shock "Truly?" and she nodded "Oh, yes – almost all who are on the Chosen program are Nocturnals – to lesser or bigger extent. In fact, all the great wizarding families of Germany and Scandinavia have cross-bred quite a lot with the Northern High Clans of the Twilight Masters."

"So, there really exist vampires who can wield magic?" A slightly smug smirk was her response at his query "Of course – it's one of the main traits of the Clans from this part of Europe, even the Four knew about this occurrence. However, it manifests itself only in those of their members who have been born as Twilights, and not turned. Unless they were magic-users prior to that, obviously." He raised an eyebrow "Who are these 'Four' everyone keeps talking about?" She laughed outright at his question "The founders, certainly – of the school and the Island."

"You had four founders too, like Hogwarts?" he was unable to believe the twist of history. Vera, however, appeared to perhaps have anticipated this turn of events "It's not a coincidence, at all. You see, two of the Hogwarts founders are involved in Durmstrang's establishment, as well." Abraxas was quite intrigued – now, that was an interesting development. "How come?" he couldn't stop the question, before it fell off his lips. His companion gazed at the full moon, seemingly in another world entirely, and he couldn't help noticing how the silver light reflected off her face, making it almost radiate. "History, I'm sure you know, is written by the victors…or those left standing, as the case may be. And that's exactly what happened here…" she turned to face him, eyes trying to penetrate to his very soul "Hogwarts' original Four, in fact, weren't the ones everyone knows about."

His own gaze went wide at this "Are you serious?" The brunette nodded in earnest "Initially, they were four as well – but all were men..." Abraxas could do nothing more, than listen, completely absorbed in the story "Gryffindor, Slytherin and another prominent wizard of the time, equally as powerful – Cyrus Rivers, a name, old Godric made absolutely sure, was in the end forgotten. After all, his little anti-Slytherin campaign is still having results today – Salazar, for starters, wasn't the age portrayed in popular history, when he left, not to mention that his looks were _**totally**_ different. I have to agree, that his line did inbreed quite a lot eventually, but that was way after he had died – at least four generations."

"Why the defamation, though?" Malfoy questioned and Vera sighed "For the very same reason that Slytherin was forced to leave. Though it had nothing to do with his alleged hatred for muggles and muggle-borns, but with a rivalry, as old as the world itself…" she smiled, somewhat bitterly "That for the heart of a woman – the same one, both Salazar and Godric had fallen for, but who loved only the Serpent Lord. Arlene Rivers – Cyrus' younger sister. And her brother stood behind her in her choice – something Godric could never forgive. Plus, his rival supported another match Gryffindor resented, that of his only child, his daughter Valencia and Aiden – the younger twin of the fourth original founder, Brant Langratte."

"I see nothing wrong in this one." Malfoy remarked, but the hazel-eyed witch shook her head "The twins were muggles – the two greatest warriors of their time. By all means, they weren't powerless, yet their abilities came directly from their Blood and not from magic. Valencia's father however, wasn't particularly receptive to their lack thereof." The platinum-blond man didn't even remember to pry further on the issue – he was too taken by the broader story and his companion proved to be quite interesting, too. He almost forgot his regrets over Laura's hasty leave. Almost. Yet, he couldn't help one disbelieving frown "Didn't _**Slytherin**_ supposedly hate muggles?"

"That's the point – only _**supposedly**_. In all honesty, he wasn't a great fan of them either, as he thought that the acceptance of muggle-borns to study magic would jeopardise the secrecy of our world. Though, he most certainly didn't want them exterminated - he simply distrusted the majority, the only exceptions were the Langratte brothers. But, after all, they had proven themselves worthy of participating in the Hogwarts project, and that was enough for them to win his, and the others' respect…and subsequent friendship. Yet, that also ultimately earned Cyrus, Brant and Salazar's kicking off the scheme, so to speak.

"Besides, there was no way in this life or the next to separate what the Powers themselves had **_destined _**to be…" the meaning behind that particular word wasn't lost to him at all - in fact it was one of the rare pieces of proof that his hopes were very much real. In the same instant, however, Malfoy noticed she was again gazing in the distance, seemingly smiling to a memory "I recall a pair who were that way as well… A bond, transcending time, space and even death, entwining their very essences in ways, sometimes unfathomable to a mere mortal…"

"Who were they…? And why the 'were'?" She fixed him with a suddenly unmoving gaze "The parents of a friend. And they're…gone..." Guilt coursing through him from his tactlessness, he swiftly moved to change the subject "How come your Four ended up here, though?" Vera looked up at the full moon "Simple really - they had to flee or face Gryffindor's wrath, and they had prefered to disappear off his radar so to speak anyways so as to be able to put to practice what they had long-envisaged. They found themselves in Germany first, only for it to become sort of a second home for them. But they all had always been fascinated by the sea, so they decided to establish their base in the Northern Baltic. In the very place we are right now…the Island of Thunder and Lightning - born literally from the waves." She apparently didn't notice that he had taken her hand, in a sort-of silent apology for his earlier indiscretion "And the school?"

"That actually came a lot later. The Institute of Durmstrang has existed only for the last seven centuries, first for those from Germany and Scandinavia, then gradually for the whole of Central and Eastern Europe. But in the very beginning, it was a teaching/training centre for wizards and witches of _**any**_ birth, who were to become protectors of Germany – the Four's new home. The same people, who, in the future, came to be called 'the Chosen'... The negative attitude towards non-pureblood students is a product of recent developments, but there isn't such amongst us. And there never was – ability is what counts here."

Vera suddenly narrowed her eyes, remarking "We'd better go inside. There's going to be a storm – people must be in a really bad mood." Seeing his perplexity though, she elaborated "The weather here changes, according to the state of mind and/or sentiments of the inhabitants. Storms usually mean the majority are for some reason quite moody. It's another of the Four's _**additions**_ – and quite an unpredictable one at that! But after all," she sighed "that's what weather is in general, anyway." She cast an almost loving look at her surroundings "Still, they certainly knew what beautiful truly means – even with all the unnatural things they added, here and there…" His silvery eyes drowned into hers, which in turn seemed to sparkle, as he whispered "You seem to be reading my mind…About everything…"

"You believe in it too?" she asked, slightly incredulous, but he took her hand to his lips, replying with a feathery kiss on her palm and then added "It is one of the reasons I finally found the courage and left behind a life, otherwise empty and meaningless. Plus, earlier tonight, a magical vision showed me what I have to do, to complete the process. And for that, I am forever grateful to her." He suddenly felt inexplicably bereft "Even though, her soul is probably eternally lost to me…" Vera's hand reached out and traced gently the lines of his handsome face "But hope is always alive – if only you let it be…" Then, she turned, before he could see the tears in her hazel eyes, and fled, to Malfoy's complete confusion…

* * *

In the meantime, in the depths of the castle, a certain Dark Lord was immersed in several sources, containing the very same information that, unbeknownst to him, Verita Gebhern had been relaying to his associate. Truth be told, he had been quite impressed with the library here, which, coming from someone with his immense experience in the matter, meant a lot. Though most of the books were such, one wouldn't find in a place that doesn't want trouble with the law, he supposed it was normal for here. After all, almost nothing to do with the Chosen, Durmstrang included, fit in the conventional meaning of 'ordinary' – they were unique by mere definition…

Needless to say, he had found the facts quite absorbing – especially those about the so-called 'Four Powers', since it turned out, that the creators of the Island, each wielded one. Valencia Gryffindor commanded the Mind realm, while her friend Arlene Rivers had reined over the Power of Death – the first and only so far, _**female**_ Dark necromancer. Her brother Cyrus had been one too, but no one had expected her to be as well, nor to actually be his equal in ability. And, legend said, there would be only one more like the younger Rivers – the last female of her blood, before all four founders' lines became one.

However, his most cherished discovery had been the explanation of the strange link he seemed to have with the Island, which Laura had pointed out to him. For, while building their creation, each of the Four had left a piece of their life energy, which they joined to form the same Soul, his feisty redhead had talked about. A quadruple Horcrux, yet one he had only heard being mentioned before – a soul-keeper, made not through death, but from love. And because of this little detail, those, in whose veins rightfully flowed the Blood of any of the Four, would be able to control almost everything on the Island, depending on which Power they possessed, including directly connect with its Soul. Which explained, now with him knowing Laura had the Fire; why her presence had been so close and strong. Tracking Spells, huh?

But then, something else struck him. From what she had done to bring Von Trier back to normal, it could mean only one – she controlled the Mind too… Fire and Mind – Aiden and Valencia… And putting two and two together, the Dark Lord reached the only logical conclusion – she had to be their mutual descendant. But that simply couldn't be, he mused, there was no one left from that lineage… Or at least, no one known – and he knew next to nothing about her family or precise origins. She didn't speak of them, which created quite the obstacle to his plans. True, she was warming up to him, judging by the rescue night, but she was close to a complete enigma, otherwise. And that left him utterly frustrated – for more than one reason…

Chasing the unwelcome sensation away, he instead let his thoughts wander for a change, but ironically, they landed on something equally as mysterious and magnetic to him – something that had ensnared his mind to no end… He had come across it during his second week at Durmstrang. It had been hard to miss anyway – a full-size picture on the central wall of 'The Labyrinth of Visions', as the local Hall of Fame was known. Normally, he would have passed by without a second glance, but the fact that it wasn't a magically-moving depiction, had stirred his curiosity.

Yet, it was the people captured on the canvas that had, for some reason, caught the Dark Lord's attention and kept his thoughts returning to them, time and again. A couple, both clad in armour, similar to the one he had seen Laura and her fellow players use in their matches, though more ornate, swords hanging at their waists. They were very obviously Chosen and judging by the dark, slightly lit-up sky, the destroyed trees and landscape in the background, and charred traces all around – in the middle of a battle. Oddly enough though, what got Voldemort's attention the most wasn't the situation they were in, but their emotions, which the picture managed to convey perfectly – as if he were witnessing it first hand.

The way they clung to each other was as if for dear life – almost desperately. Like, if either of them let go, the other would disappear into oblivion. It was perhaps trivial to a chance observer, but he was shocked to find, that what would normally make him experience nothing but contempt, when looking at the pair caused him to be drawn, instead. Maybe because, their feelings were not only plain beautiful to behold, but also dignified. For, even when displaying such vulnerability, they still managed to remain composed - inner strength pouring from them almost tangibly.

Not to mention, they made quite the couple anyway – both matching perfectly, not only in the depth of their character, but also look-wise. Though no woman could ever be as gorgeous as his Lady Firestar, he nonetheless had to admit that the one pictured was a beauty, with waist-length, dark-blond locks and crystalline, blue-grey gaze. The man cleaned up equally well – a mane of raven hair fell past his shoulders, brushing into a pair of dark-blue eyes. Strangely enough, Voldemort felt like he had seen both their faces and the man's eyes somewhere. However, every time he sensed he was close to the answer, it simply slipped away, remaining to this day completely elusive.

Still, he couldn't help coming back to regard them ever since, especially their eyes. They were easily the most shaking part of the picture – the sheer magnitude and depth of the emotions in them felt like it could crush the Dark Lord. Pain, because they were going to lose their partner. Despair, from being helpless to prevent it, as it was a battle they couldn't win – whether by reason of being outnumbered, or because if they were victorious, they'd lose in another way, he knew not. Love, almost pulsing through the canvas – for each other… To the death, and beyond. As they sure were going to face it, judging by the circle of black-and-crimson flames, becoming gradually tighter and higher around them, having already reached their waists, at the moment captured.

Seemingly, he had been right that it was a losing battle – they weren't trying to fight it, but then, looking deeper into their eyes, he saw more. Hope – for something; or _**someone**_… That gave him his answer – they had sacrificed themselves for a person they held dear. Normally, something so disgustingly noble would have made Voldemort gag, but when it came to these two, he was apparently being proven wrong on more than one level. And strangely, there were no names on the engraving, accompanying the portrait – only a single phrase, but with more meaning than a thousand words: '**Fire Heart and Scarlet Shadow – we remember…**'

He had heard a lot about this pair, for the whole time spend on the Island already. The infamous, two top warriors of the Chosen – idols of more than three generations, legends while still alive, worshipped even beyond death. And now, he finally understood completely Laura's words from their detention night - true immortals were indeed only those, who lived on in people's minds and memories. He was, at last, able to see the truth in that, for, it was looking straight back at him from that picture…

Still, it led him nowhere – no one ever dropped so much as a hint, as to their real identities. That in itself was quite unusual already, since both were deceased, and each Chosen's real self was only ever revealed on this occasion – otherwise, not even the best spies, muggle and wizarding alike, had been able to breach their organisation's impeccable secrecy. And it haunted him endlessly – just who exactly were they? Still odder, why on Earth, did _**he**_ of all people, want to know so badly? Yet, he couldn't escape the irksome sensation that his answer was a lot closer than he thought…

* * *

Almost a week later, Laura stood at the same castle wall Vera had conversed with Malfoy on, watching the stars and still pondering her encounter with the latter. Bizarre, was probably the right word to describe it – mainly so, because of the man himself. Such a walking contradiction she hadn't met for quite a while - philosopher at heart, longing for the fruits forbidden by his society; but conformist deep down, incapable of a decisive move to attain them without prodding.

Still, she couldn't deny she had enjoyed talking to him. He'd make an amazing friend, particularly because there had been no ulterior motives anywhere in his mind, she had verified. And besides, he was _**different,**_ still so innocent and idealistic in many ways, especially with his firm belief in elusive concepts, others readily scorned. But when it came to his main credo, Laura had to give him credit for that – because she herself knew it was true. Love existed – she had experienced it first hand. And would still have it, had she not been such an idiot…

What bothered her more though, was that recently, for some elusive reason, the man in her dreams had been gradually replaced by two others. And of them, she couldn't decide which one was more bad news, though with her luck, it was probably both in equally great measure... Laura sighed and turned to leave, but stepping through the staircase door, she suddenly found herself pressed against someone's broad chest, her cry of surprise muffled in what looked like his cloak. A pair of strong arms caught hers and steadied her, and she finally got to see who the assailant was, her eyes meeting a familiar pair of soft orbs, the colour of dark chocolate. Professor Black.

"Please remove your wand from my throat, Miss Snape – it is not the most pleasant of sensations." Laura could tell he was feeling awkward. On reflex, she had forced her wand's tip to his neck's main vein – her training getting the better of her. She lowered it slowly, slightly embarrassed by her reaction. But then again, why should she be? It wasn't like she had known someone was lurking at the door, let alone one of the infamous three. "Excuse me." she fixed him with a cold gaze, her face a stony mask.

He, however, smiled kindly at her and replied just as nicely "Apology accepted." She looked deep in his brown eyes and then probed his mind – there were no strings attached; nothing to do with Riddle's schemes. Grateful, she let herself relax in his hold and sensed he was somewhat reluctant to let go of her, as she tugged herself slowly out of his sort-of embrace. They were facing each other now and she saw he was dressed just as warmly as her. "I couldn't sleep." he answered the silent question her gaze was betraying. "And by the looks of it, you share my fate – mind if I join you?" Laura was startled by this unexpected request, but nodded wordlessly and he took her hand in his much larger one, steering her towards the castle walls.

She couldn't stop herself from feeling unexplainably safe, almost letting herself lean into his warm muscular body. "I kind of like spending a night out, just watching the sky." he breathed, his eyes glancing at the stars and then back at her. Laura noticed, that he wasn't frowning and his previously short, dark hair had grown out quite a bit, now looking slightly tousled. His face's lines were prominent, somewhat harsh even, but quite pleasant to behold, maybe even attractive. His chocolate eyes rather softened his features, and unlike Riddle's deathly-empty gaze, there was warmth in Black's. Not that the Dark Arts Master's look put her off or anything – she actually rather liked it, as weird as it might seem, but it was refreshing to regard something alive for a change "You don't really strike me as the star-gazing type, Professor."

He let himself chuckle – she was bold. And honest. He truly appreciated these in a woman – especially, since he wasn't often in the company of one, that had the qualities. The Durmstrang job was proving to be a really good escapade and his father had, so far, failed to find him – at least, he hadn't made it known. For, maybe, he was simply keeping 'the disgrace' a secret, for the time being. But, were he to be honest, he couldn't care less about the blasted old man. All that mattered was he had freedom, even though he had to do some tasks for Voldemort, now and then. He knew the Dark Lord wanted Laura for his grand scheme; however, he was unaware as to what exactly it entailed. Yet, he made sure the other man meant her no harm. For, Garth Black had found himself, too, deeper under her spell, the more he got to know her during this month and a half, in the course of observing her for Riddle's purposes.

Yet, he didn't expect the turn events have taken. He actually was with the mesmerising, 7th-year beauty, in a secluded, almost romantic, place – alone. He knew his teacher duties required him to question her, as to what she was doing there, at this time of night and possibly give her detention for rule-breaking. But somehow, he couldn't care less about the rules. She was there – all else was unimportant.

"Call me Garth – please." he insisted, and she gave him a small smile, letting him keep her hands in his "Then I am Laura." Feeling considerably more at ease, he smiled back, having the strangest sensation that he could share anything with her "Actually, my first name is Orion, but no one calls me it – only my 'dear' old dad, when he's on a rampage." Laura laughed gleefully, leaning more against him, and it made him feel unexplainably…good. "Your father still gets pissed-off at you?" she seemed unable to believe it "You're a grown man – he has no place to dictate you what to do anymore!" But realising she had struck a nerve with her last remark; she allowed her hand to venture upwards, brushing his cheek with her fingertips "I'm sorry – I didn't mean to." He smiled sadly "I'm not offended. It's simply a bitter reminder of the life I want to leave behind."

"And have you succeeded?" she sensed herself subconsciously coming closer to him. "Almost – at least, I'm on the right track." his voice was laced with hope. Laura let her hand now really caress his face's side and he gently held it there, savouring in her touch. "Here," she said reassuringly "everyone finds their freedom. And so will you – as, in the very Soul of the Island, it is encoded by the Founders themselves, that no one's spirit shall be caged, whilst on its soil. And once it leaves here, carrying in itself the eternal spirit of liberty, it can never be imprisoned again."

His eyes, when they met hers, were one of the most beautiful sights she had set her gaze upon – so full of hope, trust and…was it care? She decided no, but the vibes pouring out of him told her differently. And she unwittingly became lost in those eyes, now knowing for sure there was nothing else behind this, but a soul sharing its pains with another. His warm breath caressed her face "I leave myself in your hands – I know you can show me freedom, for, you are its very embodiment…"

She wasn't sure what prompted her next actions – the long time of pain, the aching for a spectre of the past, or the frustration and anger over Riddle's stubborn coldness. Wait a sec, why did she even bring that last in? Yet, in the space of a moment, his lips were crashing down on hers, and even though she immediately felt guilty for doing this, she lost herself completely to the passion and hidden affection in his kiss…

* * *

What they didn't know, however, was that their exchange had not been as private as they hoped. Black hadn't been the only one led to the Northern wall by a lingering sensation, that he'd find Laura there, and just as strong a longing for it to be true. And now, a pair of no longer dead, but blazing with rage, coal-black eyes surveyed the scene in front of them. The all too well-known sensation of hurt, amplified by another one he couldn't define, gripped their owner's insides tighter, than ever before, as he saw her, _**his**_ equal, _**his**_ Firestar, in the arms of another. No, not just another man, but one he had thought at least loyal to him, if not exactly a friend. A horrible sense of betrayal settled in, and he felt like he was going to be sick.

But then, it moulded into something much worse – a real emotion. Loss, pain, despair. He barely resisted the urge to scream, yet again, he had only himself to blame. _**He**_ had made her see he could give her nothing, but coldness – not when he was far too empty, to even be called living anymore. And she understandably wanted to find solace in someone, who actually was able to offer it to her. Still, that simple explanation didn't make the sight any less excruciating; however, the other possibility was just as mortifying. Giving in to his undeniable draw towards her would have ruined the man he was and he would have hated himself for it, not that he didn't now - for resisting. And in that same moment, a harsh, mysterious jolt had shaken his whole body, but, immersed in the sheer strength of his newfound emotions, he attributed it to them.

Power, he repeated in his mind - cold, emotionless power was his true purpose, his real desire, his eternal salvation. And she was just a means to this end. But it couldn't erase that gut-wrenching scene from his memory, couldn't compel him to stop wishing, against all reason, that it had been him kissing her. Couldn't make him the way he was, before _**she**_ had burned her way into his days like a wild flame. And if he was to be honest with himself, he didn't want this latter to happen. For, if there was one thing he never really regretted, that was it – her entering his life, although it brought him so much trouble. Yet, he was going to forget tonight, damn it! And he wouldn't lose himself, even if it meant murdering her in the end, to set himself free!

But whether he liked it or not, even with this display of his steadfast will, the wound (for, no matter how much he denied it, there was one) still hurt agonisingly. And he wanted her to _**see,**_ to realise what he himself had slowly come to comprehend, since catching her out of the air after that game, but didn't dare acknowledge till only mere moments ago. That, no matter what, she could trust him fully; for, he truly was incapable of harming her in any way. _**Ever**_.

* * *

Laura rubbed the rag one last time on the now shining surface and then tossed it aside, narrowing an eye to check her work. There – all done, but, Merlin, was it tiresome! Still, she had had to do it – their latest game with the 6th-years had left quite a lot of dirt on her 'twins', not to mention several clashes with a couple of crystal blades.

"I thought they were magical. So, why clean them the muggle way?" she didn't need to turn to see who it was – that flat, emotionless voice was a dead giveaway. Smirking to herself, she retorted sarcastically "They may be enchanted, but that doesn't include self-maintenance, genius. And spell-cleaning doesn't work on these two – they have anti-hex protection." She knew he was watching her; eyes fixed on her every movement, as she expertly flipped her swords by their handles and examined the blades one final instant, admiring their sleek, metallic beauty.

"But it's all worth it, in the end…" turning to face him, Laura added "They pay off more than anyone can imagine." The Dark Lord didn't miss the distracted look she had when saying these simple words. And something registered with him - they truly meant a lot to her, like she had mentioned that first night in his chambers. He could even say that his fiery counterpart _**loved**_ them, yet mentally scolded himself for such an illogical thought – they were inanimate objects, impossible be treated as living things. But then again, they weren't your conventional weapons either…

He watched her whirl them with the movements and grace of a true professional. And a downright insane idea formed in his violently protesting, all-rational mind "Do you want a duel?" That took her by surprise for sure, though she hid it excellently. In fact, all Laura betrayed on the outside was a quizzically-raised eyebrow. "A sword duel – with me?" he elaborated, and she narrowed her gaze "You, a **_Hogwarts _**graduate, can actually wield a sword?" The Dark Lord nodded, trying hard to kill off the rising excitement – truth be told, he was perhaps a bit rusty, since there hadn't been a worthy partner, with whom to practice, for quite the time "I have had the opportunity to learn from someone who knew excellently what they were doing." The redhead's reply was a raised sceptical eyebrow, before she asked him "One or double?"

He felt slightly irritated by her short, almost militaristic responses – why she insisted on giving him this type of cold shoulder was beyond him. Giving her an emotionless smile, he retorted "I am hopeless with my left hand, so I'd rather it be with a single sword." His companion nodded, and with a slight wave of her hand one of her weapons disappeared, while he drew out his own – a long, silvery, double-edged sword, its shiny blade equally engraved as hers, with emeralds encrusted in its handle. A thick, platinum serpent wove its curves round it in an elaborate 'S', its head resting on the top. "I somehow had the feeling you'd be using this." Laura added in slightly mocking tones, as they walked out on one of the vast lawns around the castle "Shall we start?" She didn't need to ask though – her sparring partner was as ready as it got.

They carefully circled each other, assessing their respective strengths and weak points. He marvelled at how in the blink of an eye she had slid into warrior mode – all determined and calculating. Laura too noted the way he held himself – his stance and movements were those of someone with quite the experience in the field. Well, she was about to give him a run for his money…

Sparks flew, nearly blazing, in the slight dusk, as metal clashed with metal. The steel blades swished and twirled like a pair of silvery serpents, cutting the air with every swing and parry. Movements equally deadly and elegant – neither held anything back, though they knew it wasn't a duel in earnest. Yet, the sheer display of skill was truly something to behold – both were evenly matched in experience and ability of the highest level. In fact, it seemed more a dance than a duel – an odd beauty emanating from the way their weapons collided, as did their bodies in the closer combat parts.

It was like their whole beings were on fire, not just the blades of their swords – eyes never leaving their adversary, heat almost beginning to radiate in waves around them. It felt like they had been fighting for hours, but neither seemed to tire. Unknowingly, both had let their respective Powers loose, bonding with their residue within the Island and using it as a perpetual energy source. And each was surrounded by an aura of their signature colour – Laura's was scarlet mixed with gold, while her sparring partner's wove around him with its distinct onyx hue.

Voldemort had just managed to avoid a complex, double swing and thrust from his counterpart, parrying her blade and – relying now only on sheer physical strength, he tipped it up with his own, to end with his sword pointed at her heart. "I believe we have a winner." he stated evenly, masking the excitement in his voice, as his lips stretched into a cool, but nonetheless genuine, smile. However, Laura's narrowed eyes and almost predatory grin unsettled him immediately, as she retorted "Think again!" And he followed the path her gaze made, to his abdomen, where he surprisingly found her blade's tip, slightly pressing against the fabric of his robes. A veritable warrior, if he ever saw one, he thought amazed, as he nodded in acknowledgment "It is a draw, then – I concede."

Laura's melodic laughter made him chuckle too, despite himself. "It's always a good thing to have a worthy sparring partner." she added and he remarked "Absolutely – and you are more than simply worthy, my dear, but in fact plain remarkable…" the coldness in the Dark Lord's onyx pools, however, failed his intention for it to belie the sincerity in his words. "You know," Laura fixed him with a penetrating gaze of the deepest blue "sometimes, I wonder just _**who**_ exactly you are." He gave her a look of complete confusion and truly he was perplexed, but couldn't shrug off the sensation that she saw right through him.

Nevertheless, he kept his cool, as he replied evenly; eyes fathomlessly empty "Professor Riddle – your Dark Arts teacher, of course." though, he was fully aware, that wasn't the sense she had asked it in. And true to herself, Laura hadn't fallen for his ruse at all "I mean, who _**really**_ lies beneath the façade. There's more than the simple lust for power that lurks in you – I just saw it now. And it's not the first time, either…"

Subconsciously, the Dark Lord backed a few steps, as if afraid that she had plain invaded not only his mind, but also the remnants of his soul. For, her remarks had truly touched upon their deepest parts, only to find that she was right – that underneath the image he had grown for himself, in fact lived an unconscious desire to be stronger. To prove he was made from a tougher material, than all those, who had fuelled his hatred, bitterness and vengeance – to show them he was better than they'll ever be. But also to protect himself from the ones who, he suspected, would have seen him as anything but omnipotent. And scorning all emotion, playing people like marionettes and using them shamelessly, were some of the ways to achieve it…

How was _**she**_ able to see all this, he wondered, eyes locked with hers, as he tried to decipher her in turn. How could she discern reasons that even he had been unaware of? Or was it simply the case, that he had been ignoring these, precisely because they were so unsettling? That, despite his greatest efforts to the contrary, he still remained deep, down inside, _**a human**_ – a man, who feared, who could be vulnerable, who _**felt**_. For, even if they were largely negative, they were still emotions. Apparently, his humanity had, in the end, proven impossible to get rid of – only imprisoned in his very depths, but not extinguished. And Laura had become the one, to start slowly but surely bringing it back to life. From then on, the rest just _**happened**_ …

He suddenly felt himself infinitely tired – exhausted of the suppression, he had supported for so long. It was so much simpler to plainly get it all out…But he knew perfectly well, that even so, he ever could share it only with _**her.**_ For, she had already shown him clearly that she wouldn't condemn anyone easily, no matter what they had done. And under the gentle push of her hidden compassion, the dam finally broke... All the pent-up emotions and hidden experiences he had amassed throughout the years, poured out like a veritable flood, washing over him, _**drowning**_ him, as he was unable, and now even unwilling, to withhold their force any longer. His whole being unexpectedly felt increasingly lighter, freer, while his lips spilled every single bit of his dark past, each of the little things that had moulded him into Lord Voldemort.

His mother's betrayal, his father's rejection and resulting hatred towards muggles, the way all others had always kept him at a distance, whether because of fear or envy of his abilities. His attempts, albeit unorthodox, to get at least _**some**_ attention from those around him, and their ultimate failure or totally opposite results; the feelings each disappointment gave birth to. All the murders and atrocities he had committed, in order to achieve the only purpose his life had come to have, and all he had sacrificed for it – including each particular step in his quest for immortality.

And in her piercing, indigo gaze he could see it – she had understood, grasped every single bit of the trials that had shaped his life, of the reasons behind the man he had become. There was no condemnation, no anger, no fear or disgust – only comprehension, plain and simple. He felt strangely cleansed, _**renewed**_, just from having shared his deepest, darkest self with her. And he was drowning again, yet this time not in his bitterness or vengeance, not in his past or present; but in the future – the same one, he somehow knew, lived in her sapphire eyes… When, as if in a vision, her hand trailed over his deformed face, while she whispered sadly "What had the world done to you…?" yet, he knew she wasn't referring to his looks at all. And he couldn't help himself this time, for the first instant, to truly feel regret – for everything that had, in the end, become of his life…

It seemed like hours had passed, with both of them lost in each other's gazes, completely forgetful of who he was and of his agenda. And in the meantime, unbeknownst to them, their souls had long since reached out to each other, entwining progressively with every passing moment. Both were almost instinctively getting closer, his arms surrounding her in a surprisingly protective embrace, as Laura snuggled up to his toned, unexpectedly warm body. She buried her face in the crook of his neck – a perfect fit, feeling unexplainably safe.

He, meanwhile, gently ran an ungloved hand over her silken tresses, his chin resting on her crown, and his now strangely relaxed, onyx eyes never leaving her. For a very brief moment, through his mind flashed that tormenting image of her and Garth together, but he forced himself to forget once more – he knew that in the end, no man but himself, would truly taste her. And besides, for some nameless reason, he just couldn't stay mad at her – in fact, he never had been, to begin with… "What have you done to me…?" he murmured in her thick locks, and she whispered, her hot breath tingling pleasantly on his skin "It's called hope. And I'm in no position to judge you, since I'm not an innocent myself - my past is also tarnished with blood…"

"Does it truly not bother you – the monster that I am?" Her lips trailed feathery-light over his neck's skin and he wished, against all hope, that this hadn't been just a subconscious, unrealised action. Not to mention, he was barely able to stop himself from lifting them up to claim them with his own, as she replied "No person has the right to call you one – not when, they know nothing of you, of your reasons." His fingers traced a path down her cheek, only to come to rest on her chin, before tilting it up to face him "Still, I am unrepentant – a fact, that will not change…"

"It's to be expected - after all, you've never known any different." her eyes had caught his inescapably, and he let himself fall freely into the very depths of those pools of cerulean "But it doesn't matter to me…" His whole self was now lost in the wild mixture of sentiments coursing through him – disbelief, and equally strong desire for her words to have truly been in earnest. And seemingly catching on his turmoil, she murmured "No, I'm not blind or ignorant to whom you are, never have been. I simply accept it, without seeking to change you - and you know it." And at that, a sudden, powerful urge made him draw her deeper into his tall form, their bodies moulding together, foreheads resting against each other.

"No one's ever showed you what living is like. I can… But I won't; for, you have to want it, and it's more than obvious, that you don't." to the Dark Lord's complete astonishment, however, there was no resignation of any sort in her voice, at those last words. And it made his icy heart flutter with unbidden thrill – she wasn't giving up on the possibility to, perhaps one day, use that of her gifts, something that awakened in him the insanest of desires. The wish, to let her do it… But instead, he chuckled – a cold, mirthless sound "I do not want redemption." Yet, to his utter surprise, Laura only gave him a grim half-smirk "I'm offering you none. All I have to give is acceptance – take it or leave it, I don't care. I just want you to know that it's there."

"You have seen what no one else has, yet did not recoil in horror, but reached into its very depths without fear… And in return for that, I could help you forget. However, only if you are ready for it…" He knew she had realised what sort of deal he was offering her, but didn't draw away, signifying that when the time came, she'd perhaps agree to it – with everything it possibly comprised and entailed. Yet, as she finally let herself sink completely into his body's warmth, he had to force himself to continue repeating in his mind, that he was doing this only as part of his plans. Because, that was the only way for him to crush the other, the true reasons behind his conduct, and the fact that his words had been inescapably bereft of any ulterior motives.

"What's your name…?" her sudden, simple question bewildered him more than he ever expected it could. "Riddle." he replied confused "But you already knew that." Laura lifted her gaze to his again "No…Your _**real**_ name." He sensed his insides constrict with what was oddly akin to pain "Tom. Tom Riddle." Laura nodded pensively "The one you despise, yet, I now see why. But that wasn't the one I asked for…" He couldn't help marvelling once more, at how she truly seemed to read him so easily. And he felt that she deserved to know, especially since he could truly trust her.

"Voldemort. That is the name I have chosen." To his utter surprise though, her eyes sparkled with what looked like triumph, as she whispered "I was right then, Flight from Death… Your heart's true desire." He found himself smiling slightly "Perhaps… And do you mind it?" Her lips quirked into a smirk, as she shrugged "Why should I? After all, your choices are ultimately your own. So is whatever you pursue or strive for." His breath caressed her lips "You _**are**_ unique, do you know?" a simple statement, whose sincerity even he was powerless to deny.

Yet, as he felt Laura's fingers tangle in his hair, brushing its soft tresses, he could hardly suppress a wave of pleasure from engulfing him whole; and, eyes closed, he tried to push it down. "I'm merely me…" was her plain reply; and he knew that this was what he had really wished for, ever since holding her during the night right after that accident – just to have her in his arms once more… Yet, lost in the sheer intensity of the presence of the young woman, he held so uncharacteristically tenderly in his embrace, the Dark Lord wholly missed the quick jerk his insides experienced. And it was gone too fast, for him to even remember to dwell on it later.

However, out of nowhere, he abruptly found himself staring at her as if seeing her for the very first time. Her face and eyes, he had seen them somewhere… Deep, dark-blue… And then, it finally clicked – it was so _**obvious, **_now that he thought about it, how could he have missed it before? Jumping out of his trance, before she could even say anything, he had transported them with his abilities right in front of that darned portrait that had plagued his mind so much.

"What, in the Four's name, do you think you're _**doing,**_ you crazy?" Laura snapped at him sharply, and it strangely felt like she had slapped him straight in the face, his cheek was truly stinging. Thank Salazar, she actually hadn't, though he could see he was alarmingly close to such a danger. She awaited impatiently an explanation as to his behaviour, and after he exchanged several glances between her and the picture, he finally found his voice "They…they were your…family, weren't they?"

Now, it seemingly dawned on her what exactly he had been staring at, and her expression of anger changed rapidly into comprehension "By the Fire! You made the connection…" He nodded in recognition "I didn't realise it until a minute ago, actually – I would like to apologise for my abruptness, though." Laura, however, wasn't so much dwelling on his actions anymore, but on the fact that he knew "It can mean only one thing…" she closed her eyes, exhaling sharply, as if preparing to face her greatest challenge yet. Then, her indigo pools snapped open, locking with his orbs of onyx "I suppose, it's no use denying – after all, you are allowed to see the resemblance now. They are my parents."

He had to admit, it did finally make sense who they were, as he now also noticed the handles of their swords – the same weapons Laura wielded, and prized so much. _"They are mementos from someone who meant a lot to me…" _he recalled her words from that faithful night. But he also remembered something more – for them both to be able to use her swords, they had to have performed the Blood-sharing ritual. Which could mean only one - they were the halves of completion, as wizards termed it, soulmates - by muggle definition. Her parents… And he, out of the blue, found himself curious as to what had befallen them. But he wasn't sure she'd tell him, if he asked, nor was he about to – she already had enough hurt gathered as it was.

Nonetheless, he couldn't hide the confusion still swimming in his eyes "Why was I unable to discern it before – what has changed?" Laura sighed "I didn't want every single person to know – I wished to make my own way, if you like." He took her hand to his lips, brushing them lightly over her palm "And, undoubtedly, you have. I have seen the others' admiration – totally genuine, I must admit." His arms went around her waist, as she watched the picture, while _**he**_ couldn't take his eyes off her.

Thankfully, she apparently didn't mind his embrace, since she added nonetheless "When the portrait was made, in addition to it not being magical, a spell was placed on it that allowed only those, who I somehow come to trust, to ever make out the connection." Trust, that particular word set off the alarm in his mind – she trusted him…subconsciously, at least. But that was going to be enough for his plans – the process had started… However, as if reading his musings, she remarked, not bothering to hide her sarcasm "Now don't get your expectations too high! Trust has many aspects and levels, as I'm sure you're well aware. And besides, it's just a spell…" she fixed him with her normal, cool gaze "In the end, it means nothing." And he couldn't help the inescapable, poisonous sensation that she was right about that.

Yet, now recalling the way she had looked at the pair, and the raw pain that had flashed for the briefest of moments through her eyes, something else registered with him too. And he found startled, that his mind was quickly whisked away from their previous topic, as he spoke to her softly "You saw it…" a statement, not a question, and she nodded slowly, her lips trembling slightly "They used my memory to make it, though I just cast it out and gave it to them. I couldn't talk – not that soon; well, to be honest, it's still quite hard to do it, even these days…"

Laura suddenly realised his long finger was lightly pressed to her lips, as he put in "Then don't – I do not wish for you to experience it again, simply for the benefit of me knowing." yet, she shook a negative. "Are you sure you are truly ready?" Voldemort asked, mentally cursing himself for being so tactless, as to bringing the issue up, in the first place. Funny, how, in all irony, he seemed to have started paying heed to others' feelings. Or was it just to hers…?

Surprisingly enough, though, she nodded determinedly. "Alright then." he conceded "Though, not here…" and to his more than pleasant shock, Laura huddled closer to him in his gentle hold, his arms lightly tightening around her, seemingly of their own accord; as she whispered "Take me away…" And he suddenly found himself more that incapable of refusing her – and not just that simple request…

* * *

Arriving in his quarters, for the umpteenth time now, they let themselves sink in the leather couch of his living room together, and he prompted her to lean on his chest, while she started relaying her story "It was towards the end of the war with Grindewald – my parents were in hiding to protect me, I didn't know why, though, not until I overheard once, that that demon himself wanted me for some reason. But they were ready to anything to ensure he never succeeded – even let him kill them right in front of me, so my Power would fully awaken and I'd be able to defeat him, or in any case, drive him away, so I'd ultimately be safe.

"When he came though, he wasn't alone…And before any other Chosen could get there, since no one knew our location for safety reasons; it ended in a 'two against three hundred' confrontation… Mum and Dad fought to the end, but either way, they didn't have a chance – they had driven away Danninos and his men, but then Grindelwald himself came. And he wasn't completely human – for some reason, he could wield an ability, oddly similar to the Fire.

"I had come in search of them, when I heard the battle. And the rest happened so quickly – they had seen I was watching, and knew that this was my only chance, since I had already given signs that I'd command the Fire..." She paused, feeling suddenly out of breath, until his soothing hand massaging the small of her back helped her voice return "And, their plan worked – but the price was way too high to pay..."

He noticed her eyes were blazing with the scarlet and gold flames, he had seen before, as she clenched her fists, her aura flaring once more. However, she then shook her head sharply, her brilliant gaze darkening, as she almost spat out, more to herself than him, smothering her pain, only to bury it again "This is all idiocy! I'm not the only one who lost family to him, and it's not like he won't ultimately pay for everything – we all do one day or another." And he finally saw that she had, in fact, shed no more than a couple of tears – didn't she cry at all? Or did she just have no more left…?

Voldemort was now truly shaken to the core – something, he had honestly thought impossible to happen to him, by this moment. Yet, seeing her raw pain melt into cold fury, her previously radiant, blue gaze – now dark and icy; he couldn't help feeling himself ache for her, with such force, that just a minute ago, he had considered could never exist. For, he had accepted his own predicament, the solitude he was cursed with, the iciness of his self, and the effects it had on the world. But he had just realised he could never do the same, when it came to hers. Because, she didn't deserve the hand she'd been dealt - not when she wasn't like him, born and bred by the harshness of life into a monument of dark coldness.

Yet, he still couldn't help being so wholly ensnared by her strength – the same inner force, with which she met and fought back so deftly the blows of life. By Slytherin, he thought, she would hit death itself in the face and still stand her ground, just as firmly as the ancient rocks, which carved out the Island's shores! And drawing her even deeper into his embrace, his heart, which he had been sure was dead long ago, now found itself beating together with hers, and he felt a never before experienced emotion overwhelm him. The one, others called compassion, if he was correct.

His fingers reached unstoppably to her cheeks, lightly wiping away the few tears that glistened there, as he murmured "My offer still stands, my Star of Fire – at least, let me try…" Strangely, his voice came out not one bit seductive, as was his intention, but heartfelt… Yet, to his utter astonishment, her small hand tightly held onto his larger one, while her lips breathed, so close to his own that they were almost touching "I'll take what you're willing to give…but don't expect me to stop seeking the rest."

His lips moved to lightly caress her forehead "I gather, I will be fine with such an arrangement…" Yet, the meaning of that particular final phrase of hers had struck something in him – the same aching cord, he hadn't even known he had possessed, until that night, when he had seen her and Black kissing. And for the second time in this fateful day, he overlooked the abrupt, stab-like sensation, which however, unknowingly brought him one step closer to something, he had secretly been dreaming of, ever since Laura had become an integrate part of his life…

* * *

A/N2: I'm really keen on feedback - whatever you may think...


	7. Darkness Without Dawn

**Warning - Please read!:** DH spoilers ahead! And this story is AU in two major points - that is, the Deathly Hallows **don't** exist, and most of the events of Book 7 **won't** happen. However, I'll be using a lot of the info from DH concerning the characters!

A/N: Yey - I finally managed to write this one too! Title's crappy again, but feel free to ignore it and go straight to the rest!

* * *

CHAPTER 6: Darkness Without Dawn

"How can this possibly be?" Julius Malfoy shouted enraged, while continuing to pace the large living room of Black Manor. Kalvin sighed, certain that if his friend didn't stop measuring the floor, he'd make rather deep holes in it. He himself was surely the calmer of the two, but even his own temper was now close to reaching breaking point. "They can't have just disappeared in thin air – they MUST be somewhere on this planet, damn it!" Malfoy snarled, fixing the two men in front of him with his best killer-glare "Are you SURE you checked thoroughly?" The taller of the pair under scrutiny took off his hood to reveal a sallow-skinned face, with a pointed chin and gaunt cheekbones, his eyes - close in colour to a rainy day sky "We have all our … under-agents on the job, my Lord, but there is nothing so far. It is, as if your son and Lord Black's have vanished without a trace."

"That much I have already figured by myself!" he growled, when the other man spoke, his hollow voice as if belonging to a ghost "We have, however, come by a couple of mentions of Lord Orion's less formal name…in conjunction with that of one Laura Snape." Both Malfoy's and Black's eyes flared suddenly with shock as they stiffened. It was Kalvin, who found his voice first "_**Aberforth Dumbledore's **_granddaughter?" The man nodded, replying "There is no other of that name, I believe, my Lord." and Black felt his blood freeze, as he slowly descended from his throne-like chair, voice slightly trembling "Keep searching – _**any**_ information will be good. You may go." And with an imperious waive of his hand he dismissed the pair, who bowed and quickly vanished.

"What have they mixed themselves into…?" the dark-haired wizard shook his head with worry "_**This **_family is not one to mess with, well, with the exception of that nutcase - Aberforth's brother! Don't even get me started on the rest… And the granddaughter – from what I've heard, _**she **_is worse than _**all**_ of them put together. Just thinking of what she could do to our sons makes me shiver!" Julius was taken aback by the sheer amount of venom dripping from his friend' voice, and he couldn't help eyeing Kalvin a bit incredulously and suspiciously at the same time "Kal, it's true there are legends about this particular family, but surely there is the fair amount of fiction. And you appear to know them all too well, for someone who seems to keep themselves as far from the 'Disgraced Nobles', as they are commonly branded, as possible."

Black gazed at the other man darkly "You don't understand, Juls – _**all**_ of these so-called legends, every single bit of them, _**is**_ nothing but _**fact**_! And concerning my familiarity with them – I have my reasons, old friend, and will greatly appreciate it if you didn't pry in them, for the time being. I promise to tell you, if and only _**if**_ it becomes necessary… But till then, you must know this – whenever Laura Snape had come into the picture, at least one corpse was left behind when she later exited. And I can only hope this time it will not be either of our sons, as wayward as they are – after all, she's rumoured to carry a curse…"

Malfoy positively gaped now "A _**curse**_? Kal, if what you said about them is indeed true, then this is disastrous! The woman may be a walking nightmare – we have to do something!" Black, however, to his friend's greatest shock, kept his composure really well, suggesting "Do you not think, we must find them first, before we take any action? And besides, she has not done anything to them so far, judging by the lack of death-reports…" His dark gaze became distant "You see, I do not even know what she looks like, but she does sound as quite the intriguing personality – for someone with tainted blood."

"Come on, Kal, everybody knows she is a half-blood, the entire family is like this – it is not news." Yet, Black shook his head, a patronising smile creeping on his thin lips "I do not mean half-blood, Juls – but rather half-_**breed.**_" Julius was now listening to him more than closely "You are trying to say that-" but Kalvin was quicker "Exactly – just imagine the _**type**_ of vampire blood fused in their line and you get the picture. Not to forget those old rumours about her lineage. As I said, _**very**_ interesting – and I somehow cannot wait to meet in person the result of that incredible mix…" Malfoy, though, couldn't help but frown at his friend's words, then melting into a smirk "Don't tell me you seriously believe in all that nonsense about the Four Demons and their equally infamous descendants?"

However, Kalvin's reproachful look made him shut up about that, so instead he said slightly mockingly "Not to mention that, judging by the way you talk about her, my friend, one could say you sound, as if your **_fascination _**with her is of _**that**_ kind..." The dark wizard, however, turned his cool gaze sharply towards his comrade, his voice coming out in a deadly whisper "The Black family does _**not**_ know the meaning of the word, that you do not dare speak – nor will it ever. And if my first-born someway manages to learn it, I will not hesitate to employ _**every**_ possible measure to preserve our blood's purity…" That, though, only made Malfoy's lips form a dangerous smirk, as he added "You're really reading my mind, Kal…"

* * *

"I'm such an idiot!" Elia cursed under her breath, as she and the others raced to Dark Arts class, even though thus they'd be at least fifteen minutes early "I forgot the darned thing, and now he's _**so**_ going to kill me!" She was in fact referring to their homework on researching the ways to break down a soul's defences, which Riddle had specifically marked as absolutely important. "Don't worry; I think it'll be alright." Trevor tried to placate her, but to no avail, when Vera suggested "Why don't you copy one of ours?" and Laura put in "Yeah – we'll change it a bit here and there, and it'll be fine." However, Eli eyed her, as if she had just said pigs could fly "What? In ten minutes? You guys are great friends and all, but I wonder, whether some amongst us don't need a bit more sanity than they normally display."

Travis, though, smirked widely – a certain sign of trouble ahead, and exclaimed "Hey, we're Chosen – if we can face death and mayhem on a regular basis, surely we can get something as simple as a homework done at a short notice too!" Eli rolled her eyes "All right, you clown – let's see you try. But I'll blame you, if you land me in a lifetime of detention with that freak!" Lukas laughed cheerlessly, remarking "Well, I'd have to admit, it's not the best way to spend your time. Especially, since us three still haven't finished our month's round with him. At least he hasn't tried anything major – just a lot of sweet-talk, while we sort out the huge mess that is his place." He sighed "That guy sure has _**a**_ _**lot**_ of stuff!"

"But we don't even give him a second thought." Trevor added pensively "And surprisingly enough, he doesn't press too hard either. It's like he had his mind on something totally different, and recruitment's the last he'd consider." Laura nodded absently "Yeah…I've been sort of…distracting him in that area." The others looked at her puzzled for a moment, before it registered with them what she'd meant, and Travis put in sombrely "Just be careful okay? The man's dangerous enough on his own." The red-haired witch only smiled at him "I know the risks, Ad – and if that's what it takes to make sure the rest remain safe from his influence, I don't mind being bait. He won't give up trying to get to me – yet, he won't harm me either."

"Laurie, that's exactly where the biggest hazard comes from – what if he indeed doesn't quit? And if he realises you've been playing him, who knows what will happen!" Vera's concerned expression, however, did nothing to dissuade Laura who simply took the best way out of this increasingly uncomfortable conversation – by changing the topic "How's the intelligence going, though – had he made any moves outside the supporters part?" The rest hadn't missed her tactics at all, but nonetheless, they focused on the job at hand, with Lukas pointing out "He'd been researching us – the school, the Four, the Island, and pretty comprehensively too."

"I know about his interest in the Four – but it's really on a personal level, nothing to worry about… As for the other two, either he's trying to fish out all about our defences, in case he needs to find a way round them. Which is quite alarming in itself, 'cause it may mean he's planning something. Or" her gaze narrowed "he's here to steal our secrets, looking for a way to increase his own power, to fulfil his heart's desire…" She whispered to the others "I'll check which sources he's been in, first thing after his class – don't wait for me for lunch!" Lukas put in, slightly disappointed "I thought we'd be going over the next game's strategy during lunch-break?" but Travis shook his head, his mind for once not drifting away "That's helluva more vital, Kas – the game can wait!"

Vera patted Laura's shoulder amiably "It's cool, sis, don't worry – we'll save you some food." while Trevor offered "We'll leave the game for after dinner, before we go to detention – deal?" Laura smiled at them all "Deal, of course! What did you expect – that just 'cause I got work to do, I'll let you lot slack? But don't forget the chicken soup – I'm a true sucker for it, and school's the only other place beside grandma's kitchen where it's made the way it should be, with real meat!" to which both guys and girls giggled heartedly. Then, she added "You guys know what to do, if anyone asks about me…" Travis whispered "Does it hold for the eighters, as well?"

There was clear distaste in his tone at the mention of the older year, which the young woman pointedly chose to ignore, instead remarking "Ad, none of them are dogging me, if that's what you're implying! And no – if it's anyone of their group, sent them straight to where I am at the moment, ask Julian to find me, if you're not certain where that is." And immersed in their talk, they hadn't noticed they had reached their classroom. That is, until Eli's eyes grew impossibly frantic, as she recalled their initial topic "Hey, guys, what about my homework?"

* * *

No sooner had Laura and others sat at their usual desk, however, and her gaze met a pair of coal-coloured eyes, never leaving her, carrying a promise for rest and comfort, if she needed it. Consolation…that at least, as ironic as it sounded, Laura knew, he'd be able give her, as he had proved it already. After all, for the remainder that he was incapable (or unwilling - depending on how one saw it) to provide, she had found herself another. Though, even she had to admit to herself, that lately she increasingly didn't want it to be so – that for some unfathomable, yet _**very**_ reckless reason, she wished for the full to come only from him…

But it was a folly hope, Laura knew that all too well, and there was no point in wasting one's life with anticipating what could never happen. After all, he was still the cold and emotionless shell, though only towards everyone else. For, as of late, he had gradually, albeit very slowly, become a little more _**normal,**_ letting himself freely display that same hidden side of him, which only she had glimpsed at. Solely for _**her**_ personal benefit… And she couldn't deny that perhaps, the best part was that his jet-black gaze was no longer dead. Because, every time she glanced deep into it, she saw her reflection, wondering despite herself, whether he met his own when looking in her eyes…Or if there was a way for her to know he was truly still alive.

Unnoticed by the rest, he smiled at her – a real one, as they always were when meant for her, yet of the kind that accomplices in some risky venture gave one another. Still, Laura found herself returning it almost on pure instinct, pondering the irony of things. Funny, how each had come to know exactly what the other needed, even in this short a time-span. And they were indeed using each other, yet unwittingly, not for their original purposes. But instead, to drown and silence their predicament, to forget at least for awhile what the world saw them as.

He, who didn't care what she had done or caused, even if it were the worst atrocity possible, helped her finally relinquish her guilt. For, when they were together, she had realised, that she didn't need to explain or justify herself anymore. By one of life's greatest ironies they were so alike, that her demons, living in her very blood, awakened by her first use of her Fire, tormenting her endlessly, didn't scare him at all. Because his own were equally as powerful… And during their progressively longer time together, Laura was revealed to be the only one capable of driving these away. She didn't fight them for him – that was a battle he had to lead on his own, but she had turned out to be the sole able to, and actually sharing his infinite solitude. Perhaps, that would give him strength to face his fears, and the prospect that maybe he might be human after all, and finally to stop being afraid of it. And hopefully, he would gradually realise that in the end it didn't diminish the undeniable, inner strength he had. That instead, it would help him let go of all the harsh venom that smothered the man beneath the masks, he was so keen to keep on, yet deep inside, so desperately wanted to shed…

Risky venture indeed! Even worse, theirs was a walk on the edge – a true play with fire. Even though they hadn't crossed the physical intimacy line, except the embraces he so seemed to covet, and he didn't push her beyond what she was ready to give, it was still gravely serious. He had bared his soul and secrets already, and she had let him know things about her that she usually kept only within her circle of six. And despite their ulterior motives behind their game, the outcomes were many and unpredictable…For, Laura knew she'd never disclose her deepest self to him of all people, yet she was still completely conscious of what exactly he wanted to get to. And it left her strangely wondering, if she was going to be able to say no when he asked for it, or that even if she managed to, whether she'd truly mean the negative…

* * *

She hadn't even got out of her current corridor, en route to the Library, when a very familiar presence assaulted her senses, and she stopped, crossing her arms angrily "It's _**very**_ unhealthy to sneak up on a Chosen." However, he apparently didn't heed her warning against invading her personal space without invitation, since she felt a large masculine hand's fingers trail softly over her neck's skin. Their path towards her collarbone gradually grew more sensual, sending pleasant shivers through every cell of her body. She noticed he wasn't wearing his customary gloves – in fact, he never did around her anymore, it was as if he wanted her to see and feel only _**him,**_ without any barriers in between them…

His fingers, however, were soon replaced by his lips, but before they could reach their target, Laura abruptly tore away from his embrace, mentally cursing herself for not realising that he'd drawn her into his form with his free arm. Especially, since she'd rather liked the simple sensation of his body's warmth pressed so close to hers. "Not here, and certainly not now, you idiot!" she hissed in his ear "I have other stuff to do." His lips stretched into a cool grin "Getting all cosy and close with Black, if I am correct?"

Laura fixed him with her icy glare "If I didn't know better, I'd say you're turning either possessive or jealous, and as you're aware, I like neither!" He scowled a bit "Do not flatter yourself." but she gave him a disdainful smirk "It's actually you who's doing it. And I still fail to see how it's any of your business, anyway – as far as I recall, it was a part of our agreement, you freely acquiesced to, with full knowledge of it." Before he'd even opened his mouth to reply, she turned her face away, whispering bitterly "You understand _**nothing**_…" But he wasn't put off at all "Enlighten me, then…"

And she whirled her gaze to his, startled by the sincerity in his voice. Still, she couldn't help having a very good idea where that recent, albeit not permanent, change of character, when it came to her, originated from… But she didn't draw away, letting him caress several strands of scarlet that had fallen out of her ponytail. Nor did she make any move to escape his arms, allowing him to gradually claim her lithe form in his embrace once more, as he started to whisk them both down the corridor. "I'll never let myself be with someone, who looks for a person that isn't there…" And he instantly _**knew**_… "He does not see _**you**_… And even if some do, you are still afraid they will not accept all of you."

Her lips felt searing on his neck, as he sensed her lean into him, sending fireworks through his entire self. It made him feel so undeniably alive – a shock he inadvertently experienced every single time he held her close, one sparked off by each touch they shared. "I'm not a role-model." she whispered, only for him to hear "Nor a saviour, or a heroine of any sort – I'm tainted, and as infinitely far from ideal as could be…" His hand trailed down her back gently "Still, that has never mattered to those who truly know you. Their attitude is genuine - not influenced in any negative way." Her pace slowed a bit, and she looked up at him, quirking a sceptical eyebrow "And how would you know of that?" He felt his lips start to form a practically non-existent, but still genuine, smile "With a risk to sound arrogant, neither my sight, nor my intelligence are impaired, my dear."

Laura, however, smirked back "No risk's involved – you _**are**_ arrogant." which didn't fail to somewhat brighten his eyes - make them more animate than usual. This though, was short-lived, as his expression melted into seriousness once again "But even they refuse to perceive the whole, do they not…?" She shot him a defiant glance "They've seen what you have, and know about my darkness – and that it's a part of me, which I won't forsake." Yet, he knew his instincts and observance skills hadn't failed him on this one either, as he added "True, but no one is aware just how deep it goes – your need for the twilight, for what the night brings…"

His lips were tracing the curve of her neck once more "No one…but me…" Still, true to herself, she didn't let him have even this small victory "Of course – after all, you're the very incarnation of Darkness, its ultimate embodiment. It's in your nature – exactly the way it's in mine to irrevocably draw people in…" he almost felt her predatory grin "…like the literal moths to my Flame…" Yet, he now noticed that her smile was bitterly cold as well – just like all the previous times "But as I said before, you're flattering yourself – you aren't the sole out there, who can discern it, even though you _**just**_ _**might**_ be the one, who did it quickest."

And whether he liked it or not, he had to concede, at least a little "Indeed, I may not be the most exceptional in this area, but I doubt that any of the others are worthy of you, my dear. And I am more than sure, you will never settle for an inferior…" Laura, however, outright laughed at his words; unbeknownst to him pointedly choosing to ignore that it was the truth he spoke, as she gave him a sarcastic sneer "Perhaps…but we both know, this between us is only out of mutual convenience. Yet, don't worry," there was clear mockery in her voice, which she no longer even bothered to hide "I _**do**_ find you rather passable, after all."

He stopped dead in his tracks, feeling his blood truly boil, for the first time in his thirty years. That insolent wench was mocking him, and was having the time of her life doing it! How dare she, when he could obliterate her on the spot, if he so wished! And letting anger take the better of him, he whirled her wildly to face him, his right hand rising in one sweeping motion. It wasn't to strike her, for he somehow couldn't bring himself to do that to her – whatever demon possessed him so, but he had to show her he wasn't one to mess with either. Yet, his eyes suddenly grew as wide as could be, when he felt a hard grip on his wrist.

Turning his gaze slowly towards it, he was truly shocked to see her hand clutching his own tightly, having stopped it mid-way. It took him what seemed like ages to realise, that it was by no means any strength beyond that normal for a young woman of her stature and age, who did as much work-out as her, but to him it strangely felt as if his wrist was caught in a vice. And he still sensed the veritable flames of rage smouldering in his previously dead, coal-black eyes. But it seemed to only make the situation worse, as her own gaze now burned with her inner Power, with flashes of lightning blazes emerging on her formerly dark-blue irises.

Her lips curled up triumphantly, while she stated evenly "Such passion – who would've believed… So, here I stand, proven wrong – you aren't that dead, after all." And it finally dawned on him – she had played him into reacting exactly the way she had wanted him to, tricked him into displaying what he had taken so many pains to bury where it won't be dug up ever again. The viperous manipulator – his match indeed! But he still couldn't stop himself from glaring at her, his eyes continuing to burn violently, as her own were locked with them - equally fiery, only a different colour. Black embers and gold-scarlet pyres, a battle of wills once again – and neither was backing down, nor were they ever to.

And he finally let himself think, what he already knew perfectly…_You are truly my equal, Firestar…My Dark Lady…_ Yet, he nearly jumped, when he heard in his mind a voice that clearly wasn't his own…_Your match I am… But otherwise, I'm nobody else's but my own! _He smirked delightedly – her defiance was utterly intoxicating. And he had to give her that – she was her own mistress, and he didn't want to tame her anyway – she was wild and independent, fiercely guarding her freedom, ready to die but not be caged in any manner. She'd never settle for anything other than an equally-footed partnership – in any sense or area…just the way, he'd always imagined his true counterpart would be. And caught in the heat of the moment, or at least that's what he told himself, he drew her slowly even closer, his lips growing nearer to hers by the second.

Their mouths were now truly touching, and Laura wanted, _**yearned**_ so desperately to give in to him, just like, unbeknownst to her, he ached for the very same, but towards her… Until she realised, that a strange feeling of dread had been plaguing her for some time now, and immersed in his presence she had ignored it. Her tearing almost brutally away from him caused him to eye her perplexed, vague traces of what could be nothing other than worry flashing for the briefest of moments through his otherwise dead, black gaze. "What-" but he had no chance to finish his question, as she cut him off abruptly, her eyes scanning the walls on both sides of them "Which corridor did you take us down?" His confusion was now tenfold, as he too looked around them "The one that leads out – direction of the seashore. I still don't-" yet, Laura stopped him mid-sentence once more "This isn't right at all…"

* * *

No sooner had he approached the spot she was at, and she pulled him closer, pointing out "Do you see the wall?" He was now utterly lost and hating it, but nonetheless, he kept his composure, and asked evenly "What should be wrong with it?" Laura rolled her eyes, seemingly exasperated, though he hadn't even the faintest idea why she'd be this way, before she elaborated "It's as good as new – there're no marks!" And now it dawned on him what she'd been talking about – the burn traces, which he had noticed on several instances lining all the walls on Durmstrang's third floor, akin to a bizarre tapestry of sorts, had indeed disappeared.

Still, he didn't get her point about them, but seemingly discerning his remaining confusion, she explained "They can't have been repaired – even when the castle came back together, they couldn't make them vanish." He was helpless to stiffen his next question "Why not? And I always forget to ask what caused them in the first place?" Laura sighed, a bit frustrated, but replied still, a slightly dangerous note creeping in her voice "Almost a century ago, the castle fell victim to a certain wizard's antics, as he deemed it not fitting for him to leave without a 'blaze of glory', so to speak." He could feel his eyes going wide "Grindelwald torched Durmstrang?" but after all he'd heard of the man, he didn't see a reason to be surprised at all.

"He tried, but only got to burn down the fourth floor and half of the third. The castle's defences came up at that moment – he'd been keeping them down, it almost cost him his life; and the fire was stopped eventually." Her gaze was somewhat distant, and he couldn't discard the odd impression that she was sort of reliving the events, though he knew it was impossible "But they could never get rid of the traces, when Durmstrang rebuilt itself. No one really knows why – some say, he disrupted the inner shields permanently, or something of the like. But one is certain alright" he noticed her fists were clenched, cold determination running through her "he surely 'left a trace', as he had always wanted to."

He made a move to embrace her again, but stopped mid-motion, staring at the corridor behind them. His abrupt pause alerted Laura too, yet before she could turn to glimpse what he was looking at, he said "I just happened to see several students…" The redhead rolled her eyes, spinning around to face the intruders "Oh, bugger! No one will report us, or anything, it's not unusual to see-" she sharply stopped before she could finish, realising what he'd meant "They aren't any we know, are they? I certainly don't recognise them…" His eyes silently agreed with her observation, as they moved carefully towards the strangers, who, though the pair's steps were hardly soundless, paid them no heed at all.

"Why am I getting the impression, that they are not seeing us?" Voldemort asked his companion, while she, unbeknownst to him, had attempted to reach their minds, and unsurprisingly failed. "I think," she started contemplatively "it's because they, or we, aren't really here." His highly confused gaze seemed to amuse her, yet he couldn't help his obvious question "What do you mean – that we are out of where we should be?" Laura's delighted smile appeared to have brightened her blue orbs at least bit "I knew you're a smart one, after all." He raised an eyebrow at her banter, but she went on unabashed "Logically, since they can't have disappeared, we've either gone back in time when the marks still weren't there, or we've stepped into someone's memory of the same period."

The Dark Lord furrowed his brow in thought "As far as I know, time-travel does not mean we will not be noticed…" but Laura put in "That's only if we use some _**means**_ for it – which is kind of impossible, 'cause our mastered timeline, isn't disrupted in any way, we both would've felt the effects otherwise. And obviously, we don't have time-turners on us. My bet's on a memory, but it doesn't explain why our colour perceptions haven't changed." He chose that moment to ask "Is it possible to be not a recollection, but a re-creation?" The scarlet-haired witch looked at him rather perplexed, and he smiled inwardly – for once _**he**_ managed to make _**her**_ this way "You mean, as in something one's lived out, to be rebuilt by their own mind?" he nodded, and she bit her lip "It certainly can happen, but only when-"

She stopped herself suddenly, her gaze burning with danger, as she snarled at him "What are you trying to imply?" He sighed, cursing himself wordlessly – he'd done it the wrong way, and big time! Taking a step closer, he tried taking her in his arms again, in a way of silent apology, yet, she didn't let him come nearer her, making him resort to just words "I only wish to confirm my long-time suspicions on the matter – not to expose something, that you clearly desire to keep private. And you can be more that sure, that your secrets are safe with me…" However, instead of opening up as he'd intended, she fixed him with her orbs of fire "It's not the time for that! We have to figure out what's happened, before something else does!"

Laura paused for a split second trying to smother the anger rising in her at his words, as she knew perfectly what he was getting at. Of course, she was aware she wouldn't be able to hide it from him forever – he was way too intelligent, but certainly she wasn't going to let herself be cornered either. For, if she was to disclose it to him, it would be her who chose the time and place for that. Turning to him finally calm – a tiredness settling in her eyes, she at last let him bring her in his warmth, as she offered "Let's try getting away from this floor – we must check what the situation on the others is!" Yet, as they made their way towards the staircase, they realised that their movements, and the strangers', were actually as if in slow motion.

Laura, though, suddenly saw that the apparent crowd was gradually receding, as if drifting away, and she experienced the abrupt sensation of something being torn out from her. Riddle's embrace stopped her from crumbling to the floor however, and she heard like in a dream his voice calling to her, asking if she was okay, almost begging her to speak. Yet, she paid him no heed, instead noticing that, in the place of the crowd, now stood a single person – one, that she, and many others, would have recognised from first glance. Only he looked younger, and his hair was golden, rather than the copper-blond she'd always known.

That didn't stop her, however, from readying herself for attack if necessary, but he simply took her blue gaze with his highly mischievous look, whispering mentally, only for her to hear _'And so you come – as I had always known you would… Now, all you have to do is follow me into my days, for I wish of you to see who I really am. Yet, do not worry – your return shall be rather quick.' _Laura raised her wand, pointing directly at his heart, despite still being unsure whether he was corporeal at all _'I'm not going anywhere – and certainly not with you! I couldn't care less about what you're like, 'cause I know you well enough. And I don't need to learn to more, in order to hate you!'_ then adding aloud "You'll never be a part of me…"

She wasn't even sure why she had said those particular last words. But they still seemed to help, as, akin to a fall of thunder, her voice resounded off the corridor's walls, forming a wave of white energy. It swirled both her and Riddle in a ring of blinding light, crawling over their surroundings, slowly pushing away the scene they had been seeing so far, as if washing it off, revealing once more the scorched lines along the stone surface of the corridor. Only to rapidly swallow the strangers and the image of the man she detested with her whole being, leaving her and her companion alone, as he attempted to shake off the daze he'd been put in.

Now at last, Laura noticed she was still in his arms, wondering how on Earth she had got there, since she had been upright mere moments ago, but quickly discarded the thought. "He's gone…" was all she could muster, and though she refused his help to stand, he couldn't hold back "Who was it you saw?" confusion swimming liberally in his gaze. She looked at him with slight suspicion "Didn't you see him too?" but he shook his head, and her light brush with his mind told her he spoke the truth. "I was actually trying to get you to wake up – you seemed either in a coma, or asleep, and did not respond to anything I said to you…" There was an unmistakable trace of worry in his whole air, and Laura didn't stop a smile from gracing her lips "It's alright – I think…someone tried to invade my mind."

In fact, her better guess was, he'd attempted much more than just that, but she had to think of an explanation for him and fast "It was a memory – one of the more vengeful, older specimens from the Hall of Shadows." His intrigued look prompted her to continue "One of the pools there must have been left unlocked. And somebody's murderous recollections had escaped..." She knew this didn't convince him completely that she was telling the whole story, since he still regarded her with faint reproach, as if he detested her distrust, but what choice did she have? She couldn't really let him in on her own deductions about the matter – not when he could use them against her, or the school and its people.

Yet, she was still aware that sooner or later he would want to return on their discussion earlier on, so all she could do was prepare for that moment. But oddly, now her only concern was to escape him and quickly. Because if she stayed, she knew she was in real danger of doing something equally unwise - of starting to crave their embraces as much as he already did. And so she ran – without looking back, regardless of his requests to stay, which were chasing her inescapably, despite her own heart's tugging in his direction. Leaving him, and a thick, heavy thread of unanswered questions and hidden, unwanted longings, hanging between them…

* * *

She felt cold – for the first time in what seemed like ages, she truly sensed herself freezing. And Laura knew it wasn't from the weather, as she, like all the rest who lived on the Island of Durmstrang, were nearly immune from its effects. Yet, the sensation was still there – carving its way slowly through her, worming a path towards what life was left in her veins, even her iron will was powerless to stop it. Dominic had proved incapable too, during the nearly two hours they had sat on the Northern wall. And as their discussion of all that had passed since their previous meeting had progressed, neither was made any less worried about the situation. Nor could they figure out any possible way for the third floor occurrence to happen, since the prime suspect for it wasn't even on the Island.

Riddle's role in it also remained a mystery, though he didn't possess what it took to have one in the first place. What had got the eight-year on highest alert however, had been Laura's confirmation of his own worries, concerning a certain plan of hers and its ends. For, he approved of it no more than her seventh-year friends did. And that didn't make it any easier for her, at all. They simply couldn't understand how important it really was for her to set herself free for good – and that she was ready to even make a deal with the devil, if it was going to help. Not to mention, that she had indeed done exactly that last – but this devil was the right man for the task. All because she could easily sacrifice him, with no second thoughts or any regrets – for, after all, she was painfully aware that he would almost certainly do the same, when it came to her. And that alone made her determination even stronger.

Still, this couldn't chase away the odd sensation of cold that had taken over her. But now, she was beginning to grasp the reason… She was like him, indeed – like Voldemort, maybe not in the way she had reached this state, but certainly in the results. And she was powerless to escape that buried feeling, that perhaps, she was truly willing to share his fate. But that didn't mean he had ceased being a threat – only potential one, as he'd proved so far, but a danger no less. And she hoped, for everybody's sake, he'd be a risk, she'd be able to control. For, if it were otherwise, she was set to lose much more, than just her sanity…

"Funny – I seem to have grown quite the intuition, as to where to find you." She span hastily, but immediately relaxed, when she saw that her guess about her unexpected companion, had been correct. Letting out a breath of relief, Laura finally allowed herself to move from the spot, she had felt as if frozen on, meeting him mid-way. He embraced her, a bit tentatively at first, but seemingly discerning she had nothing against his advances, his arms gradually tightened around her. Laura sensed his hand stroking her hair, and she at last felt her own form pressing lightly to his, in an inexplicable urge to erase her inner cold. And it helped…

"Odd indeed – but for me, it's about how _**you**_ seem to take away all that's been plaguing me lately…" Garth smiled humorously "I hope that's not a consequence of the homework I gave you earlier today." but she shook her head "Researching the shape-shifting powers of the High dark creatures isn't that bad at all." She smirked slightly "At least, it proves a good way to find one's sleep, if you're missing it for some reason." Garth feigned hurt "Are you suggesting I am that boring a teacher, Miss Snape?" but Laura smirked at him "Nope – I was just teasing you, silly." She looked up "You want to come with us next Friday night?"

He couldn't help raising a quizzical eyebrow "Where to, though? And who is 'us'?" A knowing smile graced her lips "Me and the gang – we usually sneak out every week at this time, to have a good night out. And the place is called 'Empire' – the best wizarding club on this side of the Channel." Seeing his rather sceptical expression however, Laura added "I assure you, there's nothing perverted there – everyone, including all Twilights, are perfectly normal. In fact, Abraxas is coming too." Yet, the mention of his friend's inclusion in that venture didn't bother Garth as much as something else did "When you say Twilights, do you mean-" and she nodded "Yeah, vampires, but these are highly civilised, I guarantee."

She looked at him scolding "I know what you're thinking, and you're wrong. They're an ancient culture, as refined as wizards', yet they've always been shunned because of their food preferences. But I'll tell you this – they don't attack one of their own, unless provoked, it's an unwritten rule." He was now positively worried – but for her "How can you be sure they won't assail any of your group? After all, none of you is 'one of their own'." Yet, Laura only smiled at him, as if allowing his ignorance "We all fall in this category, Garth – the rule goes for Nocturnals, too. And you shouldn't worry for Abrax or yourself – you're safe with us."

"I doubt, I would be dwelling much on my safety, or anything else, with you there." his eyes though, slowly changed from humorous to serious "Since, whatever the issue I'm dealing with, you infallibly manage to capture my undivided attention." Laura scowled slightly "You sound like you're accusing me…" Yet, as his hand caressed her cheek, moving gradually downwards to her shoulder, he whispered "Not at all – for, all I've ever wanted to have you once more here, with me…" His fingers came to rest on her chin for a moment, before he took her face in both his hands "I don't mean it as a meaningless flirt, or a casual relationship…" Their lips were now so close, that they virtually breathed the same air "You are starting to mean a lot to me - and I wish for no more stolen moments, but for something serious…"

Laura had found her heart racing for the first time in ages, as he had drawn closer. But now she was truly unable to catch her breath, gasping the honest solemnity in his words – and she felt a bit terrified. Nonetheless, she couldn't deny the truth, and as she brushed away from his eyes one of his bangs, she let herself finally speak "Garth, I…feel really good with you. And I don't want to lose what we have." The redhead breathed deeply, resolved on being completely honest with him "But I can't promise you anything solid, either... Not yet…" She braced herself, awaiting him to burst out in anger, or eye her with that bitter disappointment she'd seen in others. Yet, what he did next took her wholly by surprise – and a pleasant one by that.

For, she sensed him smile, her lips - aware of every contour of his own "I can wait, Laurie, to the end of time, if need be…" And the next she knew, he was kissing her – yet not the slightly hesitant kisses he had given her all the previous times, but a wild, passionate experience, full of such unrestrained freedom, that she found herself reciprocating, before she knew it. However, at that same moment, a fierce longing pierced her very soul, and she was suddenly aware this wasn't who she really wanted. But that other one was a lost cause…and Laura was willing to settle for the man, who could at least make her insides soar just a little – and who was of the type, that wouldn't mind being a mere substitute, even with full knowledge of it.

But even though she knew he had meant every word, she still couldn't shake off that pesky, heartfelt wish, that it were that other sharing the night with her in his stead. The same man, from whom she longed to hear a set of words, with a rather different meaning. She wasn't a fool, since she knew him now well enough, so didn't expect him to say anything. Yet, all she craved was his acceptance – not just the silent one, which, she was aware, was there already, but expressed aloud too, proving to her that she had truly seen the man he was inside… Still, she let Garth entrance her with his lips, as she smiled inwardly – perhaps, she should give him a chance, after all…

* * *

They thought it was still a secret, that nobody was aware just how close they had grown in the past weeks. But whenever they gave each other a look or a smile, assuming that it stayed hidden from everyone else, there were two pairs of eyes who saw – and whether they liked it or not, it affected them way too deep for comfort. The owner of the silvery gaze would sigh unnoticed, knowing she would always be there the way she was on that night by the sea, but beyond that there would be nothing more. She was eternally elusive to him, who couldn't even dream of knowing her. Still, he had realised this way was better for them both, or he would have asked her to betray the last pieces left to her, of all she held dearest…

But the other one, the man with eyes as black and deadly as the night, who'd taken to following her almost literally like a shadow for reasons he couldn't explain, had been stabbed much deeper. Because Laura had been right – he had agreed to something of the sort, when making their deal, yet, he was still unable to get rid of the horrible picture this brought to life in his mind. He would give her comfort, oblivion, but he would never have her, not in the way he had resolved for this to happen. For, it couldn't occur without him reaching so dangerously close to that forbidden border, getting immensely nearer than he'd ever done before. So perilously close to _**her**_… Yet, as much as he may need it for his plans, he wasn't sure anymore that this very scheme wouldn't be the end of him – or at least of 'him', the way he had been till his decision to embark on a gamble, that could cost him a lot more than his life.

Because, she _**could**_ indeed kill him – an advantage, no one else in his life had had before, and a double one by that. For, she now knew all about his 'precautions' against such an event - after all, he had told her everything. But somehow, he was equally aware, he wouldn't have had it any other way – whatever the reason for this development. Not that he cared much about reasons, as of late… Still, even without that knowledge, his Horcruxes wouldn't save him from her Powers, as their effect spread to every element of the victim – whether in their body or not. She could take his life, if she wished, yet he knew she wasn't going to…For, she preferred another, worse way of playing with her victims – a slow, equally dangerous method.

Poison…that was her true nature, beneath it all – lethal, scorching venom, to which he was growing more addicted, than was advisable or healthy. The moth to her flame indeed, and even worse – he was alarmingly close to not minding it at all… For, as odd as it was, death was no longer the cause of his fears, as he had gradually grasped what he had considered impossible so far - that there was something a lot worse, which she could do to him. And deep down, he'd always been aware she was the sole out there, capable of making this happen... In fact, the need was there already – a part of him, which refused to go away or be destroyed, growing like a malignant illness, little by little sinking into his self akin to a parasite.

Need…of her gaze, piercing him to his very core, uncovering each and every bit of him; of her touches – skin on skin, or her lips. Because, everywhere they brushed, even with the slightest contact they left a fiery scar, cutting much deeper than the surface, reaching right to these hidden parts only she knew about. Need…of her presence, soothing and violent, forcing its way through every barrier, only to find he had taken them all down, when he was with her. Need of _**her**_…And he saw no way out; for, he couldn't, _**wouldn't**_ let it go. Not when he had finally come to acknowledge, albeit against all his clear reason and better judgement, that it had somehow become the only drive truly worth following, or having for that matter.

And as he moved stealthily through the shadows of the Fallen Hills, down the path that he now knew led to the Island's Heart, he wondered whether the young woman, walking just as soundlessly before him, even without abilities like his, was as bothered inside as himself. Or if she was aware, that he was following her to a place, he'd been warned not to trespass, especially if she was there too. Because she might be taken with the idea of being close to Black, but this spot was somehow related with that other, who still lingered in her soul, and about whom he knew nothing but his name, or that she'd proved unable to let him go…

* * *

He watched, hidden amongst the large, century-old pines, surrounding the small clearing in wild, completely natural disarray. He was in fact almost blending with their huge silhouettes, content she hadn't noticed his presence. Something unknown inside was desperately tugging at him, almost screaming that he wasn't supposed to intrude, that this was a nearly intimate ritual of sorts. But as usual, he didn't listen – for, he was aware of his living rival's identity, and he wanted more than anything to find out that of the one, who was no longer so fortunate. The word itself unwittingly startled him – rival…? He had never had one in anything, in his whole life so far, for who would dare competing with the Dark Lord. Still, it oddly appeared to him to be sole appropriate term, even though it concerned a competition, he wasn't sure he wanted to lead in the first place. He suddenly felt sickened at his usage of such blatant name – competition… Laura wasn't some bloody prize to be won or conquered!

In all irony, however, she could be lost…yet, how do you lose someone you never had in the first place…? And why would she choose him anyway, when he put his biggest efforts in remaining unreachable…? Was there even any use in continuing his pursuit, if he didn't give himself all advantage, though it meant using himself as bait of sorts, and very possibly losing who he was, in the end? In fact, he did consider the possibility of giving up, just so he could preserve his cold and ruthless nature… But the stakes were too high already, and that old, convenient argument won him over, almost without effort – she was way too valuable and powerful to not be swayed to his side. Despite all the considerable trouble it was causing him.

And that, he told himself, was why he was here, watching her kneel fluidly, before what proved to be the charred remnants of an ancient tree, clutching in her hands the emerald pendant she customarily wore. Sensing that she was about to talk, he slowly moved a bit closer, wishing to hear what she would say, but instantly regretting it, as the words left her trembling lips "Ich habe dich nicht fergessen, mein Herr der Nacht. Ein ganzes Jahr hat endet ohne dich bei mir, und ich weiß nicht was ich darf tun... Mein Herz ist tot, wie mein Feuer...und niemand kann sie noch einmal gelebt machen..." And he knew now...knew, who her mysterious lover had been. 'Lord of the Night'…one of the Twilight Masters...

What's more, there was a sole amongst them, with the name she had uttered that fateful night, Tarsus...von Navard, Grand Master of the Northern Clans - the most powerful and influential vampire nation in Europe. The same, whom Voldemort had considered as a potential ally, even though he had actually never met him in person. The vampire lord, whose death, more than a year ago, was still shrouded in mystery… And it suddenly struck him – Laura's necklace, the engravings he'd seen on the plum-sized emerald that adorned it, it all fit now! Yet, he stiffened heavily, when remembering its meaning. Because it had been _**his**_ – the crest of his Clan, given to every vampire when they were born, a gift bestowed to another only on a single occasion, as was traditional among the Twilights…

And the implications of such an occurrence made the Dark Lord's very core suddenly twist in violent anger, as a nightmarish thought now gnawed at his mind, spreading then like a virus through his whole self. Laura had been Navard's chosen mate…But what was even worse – she had clearly loved him, and the sheer torrent of frantic questions, the combination of these two simple facts had stirred in him, was now threatening to drive him mad. Had she taken the Blood? Or let him mark her? Or even both? She didn't give out any of the symptoms, she still walked in the sun and wasn't afraid of fire, but there were ways around that – was she using these? But mostly, why in Slytherin's name, was he asking himself all this?

Yet, the reason behind the questions was way more difficult to come to terms with, than the queries themselves. For, though he dismissed it as ridiculously impossible, even he couldn't lie to himself forever, about its true nature. About the fact, that it was in reality that treacherous blend of anxiety and anger, one of the ways to the place, he wished to avoid at all costs, another of the roads of no return… And if he took it, he was practically lost for good. But to his luck, he was rapidly diverted from having to ponder the matter any longer. Only the distraction was to prove no less unsafe, as Laura's shoulders suddenly went rigid in an instant.

He held his breath tightly, thinking that she could very probably hear him only through this simple action. He was feeling his lungs start to hurt, but she mustn't know he had been there, because this intrusion on one of her most private pieces was hardly going to help their relations. He didn't even know where these abrupt considerations about her privacy had come from, nor was he very keen to find out, as they could lead to something too risky for him. Yet, he couldn't chase away the sensation that he was desecrating not just her private moment, but also her soul, trusting brutally into those of its depths that she'd not opened in front of him.

He wasn't sure she'd noticed him, all pointing to the option the she hadn't. He was about to finally let his breath out, after what seemed to him like eternity, when a vicious strike of something invisible straight into his chest caused him to fly back into the trunk of a pine. He didn't even think then, just acted on pure instinct, especially when he saw what looked like huge flames erupt on the clearing. Knowing Laura was still there, and unsure whether the fire was her doing or something else, he rushed right at it, a bundle of sensations fighting inside him, only for him to suddenly be glad that only those with a Power could ever enter the Heart.

For, the giant pyre was indeed there, resembling now a wall of flames. He called Laura's name, yet no answer came…at least not at once – and definitely not the way he had expected. Because the fire somewhat receded at its very centre, then withdrawing a bit at particular angles, until it no longer touched the ground. And, gasping, he realised that the corona of flames now looked like a pair of wings, spreading majestically around a human form, yet one made of the same fire. A figure, he had no trouble whatsoever recognising, for he would know his poisonous addiction anywhere. But now, she was a veritable Fury, and he realised startled, that she had released her Power almost fully, yet still keeping it under tight control.

However, her eyes had turned into blazing pits of hell-fire, carrying a real hurricane of emotion – hate, rage, pain, guilt, resignation. They were so powerful, almost tangible, every single one threatening to overwhelm him, as he felt as if they were his own sensations. And he oddly found himself wondering, which one crushed him the most… But he didn't have much time to contemplate, as she raised her right hand, flames literally flowing up from it akin to a fluid, forming an enormous ball. And before he could blink, it was flying straight at him, moving at the speed of lightning… He felt rooted to the spot, though not because of his impending death, but of the look in her eyes – she didn't mean to kill… The fireball, however, was way too close now for comfort, yet, mere inches away from him, the flames seemingly died out, and while he was busy, mulling over this development, he was knocked away again.

Standing rapidly up, he suddenly noticed how thick and deep the shadows around him were – and it dawned on him…He had been using his Power to hide, when she had hit him the first time, and hadn't withdrawn it from then on. His Darkness and her Fire were opposites, and she didn't intend murder, so he had felt only the physical blows, without the flames burning him. Which meant there was only one possible way to reach her… And for the very first time since discovering his Power's existence, he let it truly engulf him, fully sinking into its very depths. He had closed his eyes, relishing in the unexpectedly amazing sensation the experience brought out in him, knowing he was rising in the air, utterly enjoying flying.

Around him the darkness grew, expanding at rapid pace, until nothing was visible, but her flaming figure and his shadowy one. He could almost see the further changes his fully-empowered form caused in him. His eyes were completely scarlet and pupil-less, his canines had grown into fangs, skin - turning a ghostly-white colour, and his longish black hair was now quite past his shoulders. But the alteration which he felt the deepest, was ironically raised up by pain, as he felt as if his back was on fire and huge pieces of his flesh were carved out, but after a short moment of excruciating hurt it was over. And he opened his eyes, realising that the whole process had in fact taken only a split second, and now, akin to a giant cape of darkness, a pair of huge, pitch-black, bat-like wings stretched leisurely around him.

He caught her mildly stunned gaze staring right at him, having witnessed his transformation, and to his utter shock a feral smile quirked her lips, as he heard her voice in his head _'Excellent – you'll be really able to match up to me this way!' _and she readied a new attack. However, he flew closer to her, projecting out as strongly as he could _'I do not want to fight or hurt you – that is not the purpose I came here for.'_ He was aware that she knew he meant it, but that didn't stop her assault, as it threw him back again. Yet, he was ready for the absolute torrent of blasts she sent his way, summoning the shadows around him and moulding them into a shield that deflected the hits. That though only seemed to anger her further, as she didn't stop, now hurling attacks at him with impossible speed, forcing him to raise his shadow shields or use his wings as such, to avoid any injury.

He wasn't put off, however, and after the next attempted blow, he raised his hands, gathering the darkness in them, until it had formed into blasts of his own, which he directed right at her, yet without any intent to kill or harm. Laura put up a wall of flames on their path, repelling them but the impact threw her a bit backwards, making her lose her balance for a split second. But that was enough for Voldemort, who used the small opportunity, flying to her and taking her in his arms, yet she gathered her wits with lightning speed, pushing against his embrace with inhuman strength. However, his own was now equal to hers, so he managed to retain her in his firm, but gentle hold, trying to placate her "I did not mean it - not to upset you."

Yet, she continued struggling furiously, anger and pain smothering her voice, as she spat at him "You aren't allowed here, not you of all people, damn it! No one can come to this place; no one can see me like this, not like this!" She had in fact started cursing wildly in a language he didn't recognise at first, but he didn't need much time to discern it – the Speech of Dusk, the most commonly used vampire dialect. Navard had taught her, he suspected, confirmed by her switching mid-sentence to the Northern variety, which she seemingly spoke fluently. Yet, he only resorted to caressing her flaming tresses, and running a soothing hand over her back, he whispered as much to her as to himself, meaning it completely, but still unable to believe what he was saying "I should not have done it. I am a fool…"

She, however, snapped at him again, reverting back to normal language "You'll pay for this, you bastard! I may have allowed you some freedom with me, but it doesn't hold for what I have here! It's all I have left, all that remains of him…" He noticed that now her rage had actually began to recede, slowly melting into a lonely pair of tears, which scarred his naked torso deeper that any flame or acid could, piercing right through his mutilated soul, as she sobbed in his chest. And before he knew it, the fire and darkness they had unleashed had died around them, leaving in their wake only two, once more normal-looking people. He used his flight ability to land them softly on the charred, shadowy ground, holding her close as if his life depended on it, not that he understood why it was so, but nor did he care.

He was no longer concerned about his plans, his turmoil or his grand desires, not in these moments anyway. For, he simply needed her - right where she currently was, in his arms, clinging tightly to him just as he unwittingly did to her, needing him as much as he - her… And he was helpless to stop the heartfelt apology that left his lips "Forgive me, Firestar…" But he nearly jumped when her lips trailed almost hungrily over his bare chest, moving sensuously to his neck, leaving behind them a painful path on his pale skin. And he was sure a scar would remain – invisible, but indelible nonetheless. Still, he had his eyes closed, savouring the sheer depth and magnitude of what she elicited in him, that nameless sensation, emotion, what it really was he didn't know.

However, at that very moment of unfamiliar, yet complete bliss, a brief recollection flashed through his mind, and his gaze snapped open, looking Laura's whole form over anxiously, only to find he remembered correctly. For, when they had reverted to their normal selves, his robes had been destroyed by the wings, but her clothes were only shredded, leaving her exposed in many places. And that was how he had seen the scars – jagged lines of different length and width, running mercilessly over the marble surface of her skin. Some old, some more recent, a couple on her thighs and upper arms, one was on the right side of her neck, just where it melted into her shoulder-blade, another on her waist, and of course, that strange wound he had been unable to make disappear. Plus, on her back his fingers now traced what he finally registered were burns - long and uneven, horribly resembling whip gashes.

He now noticed there were others like them as well, though all looking quite old, on almost every bit of her that was visible, except her face. He wondered vaguely why he hadn't seen them before, but that quickly gave way to another reaction, one he dreaded, yet at the same time couldn't prevent – anger and concern twisted together, eating at him like a disease. Whoever had done this to her, when he got his hands on them, they would be begging for death… He noticed, however, that her gaze was searching his for an explanation as to his odd behaviour, and she suddenly drew sharply away from his embrace, disbelief and hurt mingling in her sapphire orbs, while she rapidly used a spell to repair her torn clothes.

For moment he was utterly confused by her reaction, but a heartbeat later it struck him – she thought he was disgusted, revolted by what he had seen, by her scars. But in fact, he was so infinitely far form any such feelings. Because to him they didn't mar her beauty, nor spoil her perfection, quite the contrary. They emphasised even more the truth - she was flawless in his eyes, for these remnants from her battles were nothing else, but proof that she was a fighter. But before he could say anything to relay his real sentiments to her, Laura snapped at him sarcastically "You may admire the others as much as you like!" her tone then rapidly changing into seriousness, as she turned her gaze away "But the burns are something else."

He simply stared at her for one long moment, unable to process her words or get rid of the puzzlement they raised in him – not until he realised something. The burns? She sounded, as if she considered them undignified in some way... And a truly insane supposition started forming in his mind, though he wildly refused to even acknowledge it. But it was still there, haunting him like a nightmare, and he simply couldn't stop mulling it over – she commanded the Fire… His gaze caught her angered one, as he stepped closer to her in an attempt to reach her retreating form "Did…" his voice came out oddly choked "did you do them…to yourself…?" and when she said nothing, he whispered sadly "By Merlin, Firestar, why…?"

However, her stinging slap on his left cheek, mere seconds later, definitely came as a surprise to him. And Laura glared at him, completely appalled, while something strangely akin to pain lingered in her dark-blue eyes "How dare you even suggest this? Hurt myself?" She shook her head, seemingly fighting for breath, and he finally dared truly approach her, taking her hands in his, as she murmured "They're my doing, yes, but they're almost twelve years old now - I couldn't control my Power when it first manifested, and it lashed out at me… They'll disappear later - that's why you didn't see them before, they come out only when I take my fully empowered form." She sighed bitterly "But I'm not a quitter, or a masochist, and certainly not suicidal…" He held her close, grateful that she finally allowed him to "You are far too strong for that, my dear – and I apologise for my jumping to conclusions."

She pulled away a tad; giving him a lopsided half-smile, knowing what effort it took from him to do what he'd just done "You know, I must admit I _**have**_ entertained the thought of just ending it all. After all, there're plenty of quick and painless ways, and some have told me physical hurt was the best method to alleviate the one inside. But neither death, nor more pain's the answer, not my answer at least…" she paused, a distant look in her dark-blue pools "They may have chosen death, but not as an escape. And they had shown me it's pure cowardice to take your own life away, thinking it's a solution to anything, 'cause believe it or not, but that's nothing more than the easy way out. Fighting to stay alive, and actually living – this is the real challenge. Though, I don't know how I've lived up to it, if at all…"

He kissed her brow softly, finding himself silently agreeing with her view on the issue – for, he knew she was right. Because she had seen the real cause behind his quest to defy death - that he wished once again to prove himself stronger than the rest, she excluded. And mortality was an inexcusable weakness – one, only the feeble had, the same, he had given his soul to defeat. His lips now practically brushed hers, as he whispered "You have met your challenge with courage, Laura," just as he intended to do from now on "and only this is important…" She said nothing though, and his hopes suddenly fluttered unbidden, his hands moving to cup her face, while he slowly closed the distance between their lips…until Laura, unexpectedly moved away, as if afraid to touch him, instead coming to lean on his chest, letting his chin rest on her crown. He sighed – it seemingly wasn't meant to be…

She, however, finally let herself relax, sinking in his bare torso, for she wanted to feel _**him,**_ to be sure he really was there. Out of some bizarre instinct, her own arms gradually closed around his form, as she pondered a simple, yet so serious fact. No one, not even Tarsus, could ever hold her this way; Garth more than certainly would never match. For, no matter how she felt with him, she couldn't lie to herself – at least, not for long. And she didn't know how, but she was sure her companion had already observed the very same she had now grasped. However, fully content with the resultant silence, Laura did all she wanted to in that moment – just held him, the exact way he did her. Yet, she had noticed that bitter disappointment in him, even though he had hid it quite well. But she couldn't allow him this – not when she had given hopes to another, nor since she still belonged with the man, whose ashes lay around her like a sacred barrier she couldn't cross, burned in the ground of the very place they were at…

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A/N2: Comments or suggestions, as well as feedback're very welcome - I'd love to know what you think, so review! And thanks!


	8. Under The Shroud Of The Night Part I

A/N: Hehe - finally an update, after what seems, even to me, like ages. Comments are love as usual, so feel free to hit the review button!

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CHAPTER 7: Under The Shroud Of The Night - Part I: Foreshadowing

The cool night air brushed avidly against her skin, yet Laura didn't notice its coldness, her mind being otherwise occupied. However, as much as tried to think – to finally consider fully the possible consequences of what had happened right where she currently a mere week ago, she couldn't. Because, no matter the effort to concentrate on rationality, her thoughts would mercilessly bring her back to what she shouldn't be pondering at all. Despite all of her strength, she had suddenly found herself increasingly powerless to chase away those absurd longings, that could well be the end of her – in more ways than one… Longings for him…who had held her so unexpectedly, yet at the same time, invincibly tenderly.

And against her will, she had realised that slowly, but surely he was starting to erase from her very essence all of her past's fragments that concerned her heart. A heart, empty beyond recognition…yet one, he had done a lot so far to make sure he could reach and revive. She knew it was only for his purposes, for the plans he had woven that included her as his ally. But, despite the cold truth, a part of her still yearned that this could have been for real…born out of something, much more different than schemes and desperation. For, she was well aware that this latter was his other motive, that he needed so badly to hang onto something, if he wished to preserve his slipping sanity. Because, no matter how it looked on the outside, she knew better – he was close to losing it…even though he fought tooth and nail against the process, his loneliness and bitterness were inevitably pushing him in that direction.

And it was bound to explode somewhere along the line – in fact, the life he'd shared with her only proved that it already had. The bloodshed, the torture, the cruelty kept him from madness – as twisted as it may have been, for he had to pour it all out into something. She had no intention to make him cease what he did, and she never would - after all, his desires were his own, and everyone, most of all him, had the right to at least that. She only wished to give him the chance to transform the reason behind it, offering him a different sort of sanity - one, that to her utter shock, he had shown signs of finally accepting, during their encounter seven days ago. And she couldn't stop dwelling on it – he was in earnest…

But she wasn't sure whether in the end he'd truly allow it to develop, or would simply continue like before, leaving her to rot alone in her own inescapable misery. At least, it was some consolation to her, that he was equally as bothered as her on the matter, if not more. In fact, she had detected signs of what, to her shock, could be nothing else than need, though he was trying his best to hide it. Need for her…and she couldn't decide whether it was actually relieving or scary, even if she wasn't one to be frightened easily at all. But the prospects playing in her mind at that discovery were way too thrilling to pass, and she wondered all too unusually what her reaction would be, if he decided to claim her – whatever the way he chose to do it… And she found herself oddly enough agreeing with her inner pull towards him, that resistance had a very good chance of breaking – though in all irony, it was true for both parties involved…

However, her train of thought was cut off rather abruptly, when a light shadow dashed around the Heart's clearing, making Laura's senses spring out in all directions, her wand gripped tightly, until some seconds later she had determined with certainty that there was no threat. In fact, she smiled lightly at the fifteen-year-old, who now walked purposefully towards her, as she leaned on the trunk of one of the trees, a nonchalant air all around him. "Someone decided to play show-off I see." she teased him in a friendly manner, her gaze lighting up at seeing that he had kept on his transformed state.

Yet, he simply shrugged "How was I to enter the Heart otherwise, Laurie – it's not like we've chosen to be so glaringly conspicuous, when in our empowered forms, and truth be told I rather like mine. Besides, this one's only the starting stage – nothing more than necessary." He gave her a joking grin, despite which, however, his words were serious "But you're right – I stick out enough already, and I definitely should try to blend in more, like any skilful Chosen." With that, his fluttering white mane withdrew its length to just above his shoulders, taking on again its original dark-blond colour, as his skin lost the pale glow it was giving off.

And the youth known as Reynard Dieter – fifth-year Chosen, finally opened his eyes, only to lock their pupil-less, silver depths with the dark-blue gaze of his companion, putting in with another smirk "So, is my death sentence pronounced, or did I somehow get lucky?" though, his whole self gave off the distinct vibe, that he wasn't going to be the least bit intimidated, even if she'd said yes to the first half of his question. To his surprise though, she shook her head "You have no reason to worry - he doesn't know about the curse, nor has he been yet in the sources on it." her lips formed a pronouncedly wicked smirk "Only when he gets to those, there's no danger that they'll tell _**him**_ anything on the matter either."

Reynard's expression mirrored her own, as he caught easily on what she was denoting "Someone's been tampering with the information, huh? But of course, I'd never put that past you." Laura simply lifted a brow at his banter, yet inwardly she was smiling – it was, after all, always this way between them "And I can safely say the same about you – though that 'playing with fire', or should I say 'with death', attitude of yours may well get you killed for real." His reply, however, was as laid-back as before "I can't really change my predicament, now can I, Laurie? Even if I manage to keep the curse secret from the last member of Slytherin's bloodline, who's otherwise supposed to do me in - only he's blissfully unaware of it, the ultimate end's still in store for me one way or another. Besides," his whole air was nothing short of cocky "what else can a true Master of Death play with, if not the Power he commands?"

His eyes, however, then were swept by seriousness "Even if I have to hide my name, I still remain Reynard Rivers, last of Cyrus, the Death Walker's direct line – and that sure as hell must count for something. Plus, I'm not about to give up - especially now, that we have the last player enter the game too." before his gaze suddenly sparkled roguishly "But trust me, I do intend to live for long enough to see my children." Laura raised a humorous brow "And you promised I'd be godmother, right?" He squeezed her hand lightly "Worry not, my dear, big sis – you're definitely on for it, but you'll do me the honour too, when you get a little squirt of your own." The redhead patted him amiably on the back "Not going to happen any time soon, Rey…" and to his dismay, her whole being was suddenly overtaken by the crushing sadness, that he, like all her closest friends, knew all too well "…unless you somehow manage to raise their father from the dead…"

Reynard shook his head dejectedly, her hurt coursing through his every cell "He's already passed the frontier, Laurie…and even I can't snatch him from there…" He paused for a moment, an aching sigh escaping his lips "But I've always wondered, when you have a Black Necromancer within an arm's reach, why you've never asked me to use my abilities…why didn't you ever wish to talk to any of _**them**_…?" Yet he regretted his question immediately, when the mixture of scorching pain and unfulfilled longing, swirling in her turbulent gaze, hit him akin to a physical blow. And she whispered, her voice coming out raspy, and shaking with withheld agony "Because, they would have wanted me to not dwell on the past anymore, and move on – after all, that's the standard answer, isn't it?"

His hand tightened on hers "But this isn't the real reason, is it? Since you haven't left it entirely behind…" Laura chuckled mirthlessly, her free hand's fingers subconsciously going to rest below her right shoulder, where her brand marred her skin "How can I, when I still carry quite the permanent _**reminder**_…" Her eyes abruptly lost the pain from their depths, replacing it with cold resolve "I can't let myself move on – not until I've severed all ties with what I wish to forget. Because, Grindelwald may be unable to break in my mind, but through _**this**_ he still can rule my blood." And the look he gave her signified he had grasped perfectly what she was denoting.

"Well," she crossed her arms, her lips quirking a bit with pronounced sarcasm, yet one, Reinard recognised instantly as a defensive mechanism, rather than real irony "where's the customary 'How in the Four's name, can you expose yourself to such danger' hints, I've got from almost everyone else?" The younger teen, however, only shook his head forlornly "I won't give you one, 'cause I just happen to know how it feels for one with a Power to be bound this way. After all, the curse I carry isn't the most pleasant thing in the world – not more than your brand, anyway…" His oddly animated, silvery-white eyes bore into her own sapphire orbs, the start of a smile playing on his lips "Still, you can't deny that you need Riddle – and for much more than what only his Darkness can give you…"

Laura's now burning gaze fixed on him with the speed of light – a markedly steely quality mingling in its threads "He's but a tool to me…" her eyes suddenly dropped, as she muttered, faint strings of sadness weaving within her voice "Just like he sees me…" yet the gloom was abruptly gone – two shards of dark-blue ice left in its wake "But it doesn't matter." Reynard, though, didn't look persuaded at all "Laurie, I've watched you both – and it's positively not what you think. You know that my Power allows me to see into others' souls – and, despite the difficulties I had when trying it on him, I did get quite the glimpse…" Laura glared at him "It's not as simple as you consider it to be, Rey – you don't know him like I do." The youth, though, only winked at her "Precisely – you're in an even better position to observe it, when he finally realises it, and hopefully, decides to not fight it. You'll just have to trust your instincts – and I mean not the ones on the surface, but those you, just like he does, try to bury as deep as possible, even though they already are rather deeply-set anyway."

She said nothing however, and he moved closer to her, taking her in a friendly hug "Sometimes you need to believe in the impossible, Laurie – 'cause if the ones we're descended from hadn't done exactly that, there wouldn't be a place for us to stand in right now." he winked at her again "And as weird as this wretched Island is, we still love it…" The red-haired witch simply couldn't fight the smile gracing her lips progressively "Can't have said it better myself. Fancy a walk?" Reynard first looked at her a bit confused, but then quickly grasped what that unexpected change of topic signified – she was trying to run away again, only this time from her own heart's desires.

Yet, he didn't raise the question, considering it better to let her be for now – she needed her time. And besides, she was right – if Riddle refused to see the light until it was way too late, she'd only lose even more than she already had, if she let her own hidden longings loose. Still, he wished to take her mind off of the morbid thoughts he had unintentionally stirred, so he nodded in earnest, a lopsided grin sneaking on his handsome face "Only if we get out of here, 'cause I really prefer to not stay longer in a place that holds so many ghosts."

"Don't tell me the 'Master of Death' is actually scared from 'the Power he commands'?" she teased, and he rolled his eyes "Course not - what would I look like otherwise..." He trailed off, however, as his attention fell on the charred tree trunk Laura had kneeled by, during her last visit a week ago. And he squinted his gaze at it a bit, as if trying to discern something, before he asked his companion "He didn't notice your disguise spell, did he?" At first Laura glanced at him slightly baffled as to what he was referring to, but a second later, she shot him an exasperated look "What do you take me for – some amateur? Of course he didn't detect anything, I used that hex we employed for last year's finals match. Besides, he was quite otherwise distracted to even pay the 'tree' much heed, anyway…"

Reynard nodded "We can't afford for him to know what it really is – not when we still can't find the missing pieces, that would enable us to use it, and certainly not before we can be completely sure of his intentions towards the school." The young witch scoffed at him "As if I don't already know that! You can be so annoying sometimes, have you realised?" He bestowed her with his trademark cocky grin "Well, last time I checked, that's exactly what younger brothers really are for, no?" and the redhead simply rolled her eyes, muttering "How do I still tolerate you?" but Reynard replied almost instantly, with the same smugness from before "Because, I'm dear to you, I dare say, and believe me – this truly isn't something you'll ever regret, no matter what others may state on the subject." which invariably made her laugh heartily and freely, truly laugh for the first time in quite long, all because of the one who reigned over Death – now, there was an irony, if she ever saw any.

Still, she lost herself into the mirthful sounds of their joined chuckles, as the path leading towards the castle disappeared quickly under their swift feet. And she finally realised that perhaps what her logic had told her in the past was right – the legends of old did tell the truth. Those, in whose veins ran the blood of one of the Four Demons, could ever find solace and understanding only with another of their kind… One of them had made her laugh again, and that other…just might turn out to be the key to revive what was left of her heart, if only for some borrowed time…

* * *

He definitely needed this – the calming cold of the Island's nature, for his nerves were threatening to dissolve into a total wreck. It may have been utterly abnormal for Lukas Länder to be such a mess, but he couldn't help pondering, as an ironic smile had long replaced his usual mirthful one, how things could twist so easily… Because the Six, like all young Chosen born before the war, each had their private pains. And through this simple fact, for once he was no different. For, there was something that set him apart from everyone, a distinction he would have given all to erase. However, he, as did the others, had to bear his burden, and like most of them, he had opted to do it alone in the beginning…until he had realised with the years, that those other, five oddballs he had met on his first sea voyage, were willing and ready to share it.

And he knew he shouldn't have been surprised, since after all, they had walked in his shoes in that respect too – and their mutual understanding had somehow saved him from being ostracised, because of a name, which was no longer his. His nails dug into his palms, as his fists clenched…a name, that had almost earned him the same faith, as that of the ones, who had borne it before him. But the manner of his escape was nothing he was proud of, on the contrary – he still hated himself for it, and that was something, that even his friends' compassion couldn't change.

Everyone had told him he had done the right thing, their hypocritical patting still weighed with agonising hurt on his shoulders, as nothing could obliterate the self-disgust that made him want to hurl even now. He was a traitor…a bloody, backstabbing traitor, and that alone was enough to cause him to hate himself deeper, than he had ever detested the man, that had been the catalyst of it all. Because, Grindelwald may have enticed his parents with his poisonous promises, that had then killed his father, and earned his mother a fate worse than death, but it had been him – their son, who had finished off the deed.

For, despite their, sometimes rather insane visions and bloodthirsty acts, they had loved him – they had been completely different people with him…they had been…normal… But he had repaid them in the worst way possible – by utter, despicable betrayal. Since, what else could his accepting to renounce his family name be classified as, if not the ultimate treachery to his father's memory? And he didn't even wish to think about the other, the unspeakable deed…his testimony…which had earned his mother a permanent stay in Nurmengard… Yet, the reasons behind these were even more sickening - for his own good…that was what everyone had told him, he did the right thing…pure cowardice!

Because, he couldn't care less about the right thing; and what good did it do to him to lose the last person, who would have given a lot more than just her life for him, and who had meant as infinitely much to him, as only a parent could to their child…? Cowardice…and he had followed it blindly, his young age didn't excuse him, he should have seen where it was going, when he had been asked to testify against the woman, who had given birth to him!

And now he had lost her too, after he had been forbidden to even visit her…dead in prison – a place, that from other Chosen's accounts, he knew was times worse than Azkaban could ever be. Because, they didn't need Dementors to guard the inmates there – the Black Tower did it well by itself, just through being built where it was, a fact that Grindelwald had surely known when he had erected it. But sadly, Lukas thought, his teeth gritting, he hadn't been as lucky as many others to try its effects for himself, for long enough.

Yet, the young Chosen was painfully aware that blaming another for one's own sins was one of the lowest things possible – and he already had sufficient record in those to add any more to the list…Including the most recent one…he wasn't allowed at her funeral, if he wished to remain in everyone's good books and out of jail himself, as doing the contrary would mean he reclaimed his name and parentage. And though he was grateful, that his friends also grasped the turmoil he had been in for the past five years, and which had only intensified, he also knew they didn't want him to be cast out…But he was done with being a coward – he owed his parents at least that much, and he was sure the other five would still stand behind him, whatever his decision…

However, as lost as he was in his musings, he couldn't miss a light presence, somewhere really near to him – a fact, he had actually ignored for the time he had spent in contemplation, only it had moved considerably closer during that period. He had, in truth, begun to sense it around him ever since their first week of school, and was wondering with unusually spiked interest, who his stalker was, hoping for all that was worth that they were of the female variety. Shaken now completely out of his sombre thoughts, he let out a light chuckle, yet he was aware the other was proximate to enough to hear it "You can come out – seeing as to how you've been my shadow for more than two months, you should know by now that I don't bite." but no sign whatsoever came from the other person, which made Lukas frown – they had no idea what was good for them.

Yet, several moments later, he could only watch in awe, as a part of the shadows seemed to cut itself out of the rest in a shape that was distinctly human. And while it gained form, colours washing over it, moulding the curves of a distinctly feminine body, the dark-eyed, seventh-year Chosen couldn't help but smile at the young Blender, he had had his eyes on for quite some time already "So, that's why I could always only feel, and never see you…beside the occasions, when you obviously allowed me a glimpse – but trust me, I've used those well, as only a Chosen can." he winked at her, his façade was all-collected, yet inside, he was an even bigger wreck than mere seconds ago.

Because, Lukas had observed her secretly too, having already learned her name, after cornering one of her friends and threatening to Avada Kedavra the boy if he didn't spill the information the older Chosen sought. And he had taken to memorising every one of the things that made her uniquely _**her, **_and his own fascination with her had only deepened. So, he dreaded that this encounter, though it may lead to them finally becoming close, would ultimately result in her hating him – whether because of his parentage, or his own cowardice…and he couldn't decide which option was worse.

Astrid Lindern, however, simply tucked a stray lock of dirty-blond hair behind her ear, her leaf-hued gaze sporting a mischievous glint "You're truly intriguing to observe, without your knowledge. And I've watched you for more than a year now, actually - if you hadn't noticed, you must have really been lost in whatever haunts your mind-" Yet, she abruptly stopped at seeing, that her last words had stirred something more than painful in him – and she had a pretty good idea as to what it was. For, some might think her a classic, dumb blonde, but Astrid was much more astute and inquiring, that she was often given credit for – after all, she wasn't on the Chosen program for nothing.

And her lasting interest in Lukas Länder, which had proven to be on a much more profound level than mere crush, had made her dig up all about him, that would help her discover the man, she knew, he showed only to his five friends. She had been unable to stiffen her initial disgust, with his parents having been amongst Grindelwald's top agents – two of the few, who had betrayed the Chosen to join the former Dark Lord. But as she had uncovered slowly his story, she had found it evaporating rapidly, only to be replaced by the most severe sadness, she had ever imagined could exist.

For, she couldn't even start envisaging what he had felt at losing his parents once, and then being forced to sacrifice his mother's freedom and his family's honour, with the false assurance of those around him, that this would warrant him a normal life. Nor could she envision what it had cost him to live with it…because, it had to be one of the most inhuman experiences possible – and she was dead-certain he hadn't accepted it…

"I know, you've been doing the same as me, Lukas…hiding…" she whispered, reaching out to touch his hand – a gesture, that seemed infinitely right to her. For, she knew his inner agony – not the complete picture anyway, since that would be best from the source, when he sensed himself secure enough with her to confide in her, but it still made her feel as close to him as could be. And he didn't stop her fingers' gentle brush with his own, for, unbeknownst to her, his feelings somehow mirrored her own. Because, though nothing apart from frequent glances had ever been exchanged between them prior to this current meeting, out of a strange, but undeniable instinct he knew he could trust her. So, his hand wrapped around hers, holding it securely, only for him to bring her even closer to himself, their eyes locking once again. And she smiled, making his turmoil drown in her lips' movement, as she added the few further words that would seal their fate from then on, yet whose power he accepted freely "But as with your friends, you needn't do it with me…"

* * *

Something had happened…in that night of chaos and truths, something had changed between them – and they seemed to have reached some sort of mutual understanding. But as the days had passed, each had realised slowly that it was in fact much more than just that. Because, they had actually finally let themselves notice freely what they already knew was there, yet had stubbornly refused to acknowledge before – all the small, but still crucial things about the other. Each characteristic gesture or expression, every reaction and look, were finally allowed to sink in, and intertwine within the other's self. What they favoured, what made their spirits lift, experiences and perceptions – they shared everything, that was on the surface merely trivial, yet which gave them an insight into the other, deeper than anyone else's. And even though he had at first fought it with all he had, he could no longer deny that he had placed his complete trust with her – and she knew it…despite her own lingering reluctance to confide fully in him.

So, he had found himself forced to deduce what she chose to keep to herself, though in most of the cases, it wasn't to do with lack of reliance. For, he had realised, that just like he told her most, yet he left her to uncover other things about him on her own – a process, she was fairing excellently in, she too acted the same way towards him. However, her sharing was glaringly less, than what remained unsaid for him to decipher…as if she wished him to do exactly that, She was an enigma, that much he had found out long ago, but... And then it hit him, what she was telling him in her own subtle way – Laura wanted _**him**_ to be the one to see all of her, just like he had chosen _**her**_ to be the sole to know the whole of him… He couldn't stop a cold cruel smirk from gracing his lips – his plans were finally starting to work…

Yet, both the smile and the thoughts behind it were gone in a heartbeat, erased by his ever growing, powerful connection to her, as he recalled how the gratitude, shining in her usually dim, dark-blue eyes at that fact, was for some elusive cause more than enough to him. That, and the way she always seemed to be able to make him forget the harsh reality, and find something he had considered forbidden for him...peace, as she was gradually, but surely becoming his sole drive, his only reason – plans or not. He was still battling with himself over this newest development, yet he had come to grasp that the stronger he struggled, the more potent the sensation grew. And the more he was conscious that he longed not to clash with this, but to embrace it.

However, he wasn't about to just throw who he was to the devil, instead holding onto his cold, unfeeling nature with every ounce of strength he possessed. Yet, whatever he did, he found it increasingly impossible to resist the overpowering pull he felt towards her. She was his enthralling black hole, his inescapable maelstrom, crushingly powerful in her draw, and utterly enticing in her beauty – a truly remarkable blend of opposites. A ruthless warrior and a caring friend; passionate lover of coldness, or bathing hungrily in the flames of life; leaping in action with the blink of an eye, or resting so completely, leaning against a pillow, or as it was increasingly often - on him. Not that he minded - in fact, he truly relished in the way she had begun to accept him and his advances, and actually even enjoy and crave his presence, almost as much as he did hers.

His Firestar…though her fire brought no light, since she was as dark as him inside. Instead, it carried only the most consuming warmth there could be, and that was exactly what he yearned the most for - not the light, but the warmth; not the change, but the understanding… Only he had found himself longing for more, now beginning to seriously entertain the thought of taking the offer she had once made him. To show him what living was like…it was as alluring as her… In fact, as if grasping his barely existent, almost reluctant hints in this direction, she had already unwittingly started, by softly bringing out his hidden taste for adventure, which he wasn't at all surprised to find was as great as her own. And besides, the very place they currently lived in had turned out to attract him on its own, yet it could never compare to that other pull. Because, the draw towards her had long surpassed the stage of mere curiosity, developing into something much deeper, though he would never admit that – least of all to himself.

Still, he had followed his newly-unleashed thirst for exploration, losing himself into discovering bit by bit the rather odd, yet alluring magnetism her second home possessed. As if here, nature itself fused unstoppably the vigour that ran in its life-fluids into the veins of every other being that ever set foot amongst its parts, only for them to feel in their every fragment what true freedom was like. He was more than certain she knew all this already, still she never said anything against repeating the experience – in reality, she seemed glad to do it…with him. Or maybe he was just imagining that final part…

Nonetheless, each of the increasingly many times they immersed themselves into it, he sensed them grow closer – as if the place itself conspired on bringing them into what neither would be able to escape. Yet, he always chased this away from his mind, tenaciously unwilling to face its force or implications, not to mention its consequences – or those of continuing fighting it. Instead, all he did was focus – as it proved not hard at all, on simply being there…with her...

Holding her, as they walked through darkened forests, usually in the hours of night, as this particular part of her Nocturnal nature was too strong to deny. Watching her run up a rocky hill, in a memory of the child she had once been, only to stand tall and proud atop, the wind whipping her face, yet she met it head on, without resignation or fear. Or flying side by side over the vastness of the island, overtaking lakes and rivers, towering mountain ridges and endless sea, though, to his dismay, unlike him, she turned out to prefer her broom to her Power's flight. But constantly with her…for, he wouldn't have it any other way, always drinking in so eagerly the expression of pure bliss gracing her features each time, as - eyes closed, she savoured the sensation of utter, all-consuming rapture, showing even for a blind man to see, that she belonged right here, in the heart of life itself, more than anywhere else…except his arms…

Though the moment this accidental thought had slipped through his icy barriers, only to invade mercilessly every fibre of his being, he equally brutally thrust it back into the cold void it had come from. Because, he was agonisingly aware, that no matter how powerful his longing to, he had every chance of failing to prove able to breathe the warmth of life back into the empty depths of her once-fiery soul. And failure was not a word that existed in his vocabulary – nor was it an option…for more than one reason, most of which, however, he didn't even dare ponder, if he wished to remain sane.

Yet now, as they leaned against a tree trunk - forms moulded together, her mere presence made, despite his strongest assertions, all rational thought gradually flee his mind, replacing it with a different reflection. For, on landing in their current spot, breathless from battling the elements, as she discarded her broom, he had slightly rolled his eyes at her nonchallant actions - a gesture, he had surely picked up from her. Yet, seeing him do it, she had smiled…not with bitter coldness, sarcasm or cruelty, nor out of simply returning the favour, but a true one - one of the rare, blessed times she had given him such.

Such a simple thing – a single smile…but it held so much, that he felt like he would explode right on the spot, suddenly finding himself out of breath, his chest tightening so painfully, that his denied heart threatened to break it with its abruptly racing pace. Because, this time, in her cerulean pools was all he had ever yearned for - acceptance, longing, even slight happiness, as bizarre as it was, since he wasn't sure she meant to show him any of it… And for the first occasion in his entire life he sensed himself unbreakably wanted, needed, belonging… But in that very same moment he was equally aware, that he didn't care anymore if the world shunned him, because everyone else simply didn't matter – not as long as _**she**_ longed for him.

For, though against his will, he had come to concede that her lips were solely made for moulding into one with his own. Nor could he shake off the feeling that there was something oddly right in this – that as ironic, and even impossible, as it sounded, she belonged with him…in more ways than one… And were he to be honest, despite telling himself it was only since he needed her for his own personal benefit, he had to admit he missed Laura's now – to his, though unacceptable, enjoyment, close to permanent presence at his side…or in his embrace. Yet, nor had he missed the hints of unmistakeable warning not to get his hopes too high simply from a smile, now swimming in her eyes.

So, he had been forced to resort to just holding her as usual, his arms wrapped protectively around her, while they rested, in an attempt to defeat their exhaustion – the bitter truth sinking its merciless claws in whatever was left of his soul. Only a subconscious reaction… And he couldn't decide which bothered him more – that, or the fact that it had to trouble him at all. Or maybe, it was that other, even more uncomfortable, realisation that had at that same moment gripped his insides in a hold of steel. For, that simple, yet so indescribably powerful movement of her lips, had somehow ignited the same crushing, yet so tantalising warmth, he craved more than anything. And for a split second, not just her eyes, in fact her whole being, had gone ablaze with her inner fire – with the force of _**life**_…and he had started sensing its coiling, powerful treads worming their way into him, searching for the remnants of the man he could have been.

She had given him a tiny glimpse, a single, insatiably-brief feel of what he strived so eagerly to reach – only to mercilessly rip it away a mere heartbeat later… And he had painfully squeezed his eyes shut, hoping in vain that the pulsing ache would erase what he had just grasped, but it was inescapable, unconquerable, insane…its unrelenting clutches grabbing him brutally, as he finally had to grudgingly admit it – that he'd give even his immortality, or his last breath, just to see her smile at him like this again…and for him to once more be the reason behind it... Because, he had grasped, that nothing could ever make _**him**_ feel truly alive or fulfilled, but seeing _**her**_ burning with life once more…Though it didn't mean, he'd ever accept this, glaringly unwelcome development…

Nonetheless, he had lightning-soon forgotten that this was supposed to hassle him at all, having lost himself fully to the sheer feel of her, letting his lips brush ever so gently over her hair, as unbeknownst to him, she had closed her eyes, savouring their ghostly touches. Silence, yet not uncomfortable, enveloped them and they both sank gratefully in its embrace, savouring the beauty of one of the last warm days, before winter took over. Seemingly a bit uncomfortable, Laura shifted slightly in his arms, the left shoulder of her two-sizes-bigger, flannel shirt fluidly sliding down at the sudden movement, letting the rays of sun bleeding through the tall trees kiss the whiteness of her shoulder.

And it made him yearn for it to have been his lips searing its softness, his fingers gliding over it – not the rather coarse fabric, and definitely not the light. Because, light had no right to touch her - since she was dark like him, _**his**_…and his _**only**_… His abrupt possessiveness did startle him to no end, though he paid it no heed, instead relishing in the fact, that no matter how much he wished to, Black or any other could never be this close to her. Yet, his own thoughts made him halt – was he doing this only to spite the other man, to ruin for him what he himself had never experienced, and perhaps never will? And since when was he so considerate towards other people's feelings, not counting Laura as she was a special case? He wasn't even sure he had an answer – at least not one, he could live with…because, things had changed so much, that even he was now uncertain about anything beyond the immediate events.

And he had one single anchor in his, all of a sudden, more than chaotic life - the one, currently laying snuggled in his body, and out of the blue, he found himself utterly indifferent towards all, that had nothing to do with his Firestar. His mind stopped unexpectedly again – he had thought of her as 'special', a moment ago…but the man behind the masks knew the epithet, even though completely true, had no connection at all with his plans for her… As if sensing his musings, however, she suddenly averted her azure gaze to his onyxes, curiosity regarding him from within, as she seemed to be studying him. Yet, the words that left her lips had a very different purpose "Have you looked at yourself in a mirror lately?" and Voldemort found himself once again staring at her speechless.

For, truth be told, she rendered him this way increasingly many times lately. And he couldn't help marvelling, even though it wasn't something he was particularly accepting of, how she held that strange power of doing this to him…leave him stunned with a simple question. But he knew, it couldn't be any different, nor did he want it to. "You are privy, that I have no mirrors in my quarters, nor do I need any. They are useless objects – for, what good is it to see time and again what you already know is there…?" and to his utter shock, her lips smiled, though it didn't reach her gaze "There is…because, it's a way to see changes you otherwise can't detect…unless you look into someone's eyes. 'Cause there, you can reach beyond your surface, to what lies underneath – and they never fail, nor distort anything..."

That totally threw him off – partly since he was as far from this sort of reflections as could be. Yet, he still couldn't help mulling it over for himself – and finding she was oddly right… But at the same time, he had grasped her subtle hints, and on a sudden, inexplicable urge, he caught her gaze with his, asking "What would I see, if I were to look into yours…?" However, she said nothing, whether because his query had unsettled her – though she didn't betray any signs of it, or due to not having an answer herself, he didn't know. And he turned away from her eyes in an attempt to hide the self-disgust he was feeling about asking something so blatantly stupid.

Yet, mere seconds later, he sensed slender fingers trace sensuously his face's lines, as on an inner impulse his hand clasped her wandering one, bringing it to his lips, only for them to taste once more the intoxicating power of her skin. His look snapped up, meeting hers at once, as she murmured, her other hand now skating over his cheek "It depends on whether you'd _**let**_ yourself see what they'll show you – or you'd deny it… But they'll only reflect the truth – that what you've done to yourself is no longer imprinted on the surface." And he couldn't stop himself from staring at her in shock, slowly coming to grasp what she was implying, his fingers rising to touch his features, disbelief raging liberally in his eyes "My face…"

Laura's lips moved slightly upwards "Yes…I seem to be the sole, who's noticed it so far, and I don't know why. It's actually been like this for the last several days, and I didn't tell you sooner, 'cause I wanted to be sure. I really hope you won't freak out though, since I know how much your 'devices' mean to you, and it hasn't necessarily affected them." The Dark Lord, however, was too immersed into feeling every contour of his, somehow once again, fully human face, dazed beyond belief to care about any possible effects on his Horcruxes. And though he'd instantly chastise himself for it, an utterly startling, yet still merciless thought spread through his mind like a wildfire – would Laura accept him fully, now that he looked normal again…?

But he suddenly felt disgusted with himself, as the sheer lack of practicality, and abundance of what he so desperately strove to avoid, in this particular reflection hit him like a ton of bricks. And so did another, equally powerful musing – that she had already seen past appearances, so this abrupt transformation wouldn't make a difference, or at least he hoped it shouldn't be a negative one…However, akin to sharing his mulling over the matter, the scarlet-haired, young woman simply took his still exploring hand away from his features, only to hold it securely in her own, as she remarked "It changes nothing - all that matters, is that you can see beneath _**my**_ surface. 'Cause, after all," her gaze smiled again "like me you still carry the blood of a Demon…and nothing can alter that." yet, she was obviously unprepared for the look of blatant confusion crossing so uncharacteristically his, once again normal, face, though he still managed to hide it with inhuman speed.

Even so, it hadn't gone past by Laura, who was actually now eyeing him with a disbelieving expression "Don't tell me, that as interested in the Four as you are, you didn't stumble on that one!" But the slight perplexity lingering in him told her what she had already realised, as he asked, still rather baffled by this latest revelation "They were…we are demon descendants?" and she sighed exasperated, rolling her eyes at his ignorance "Honestly, if you don't know this, what in Merlin's name have you been reading?" However, before he could muster a reply, she had cast a Summoning Charm, and in a flash, a quite thick volume had materialised in her hands. It was bound in such old, worn leather, that it looked like it was going to fall apart even at the smallest touch. Yet, the young witch simply shoved it in his hands, adding "_**That**_'s the must-read." as he finally got the chance to examine the book closer.

It was old alright, his better guess was at least a millennium and a half, yet it was pretty well-preserved for such a long time. He ran his fingers slowly over the title encrusted with silver-made letters, and reading 'Legends of the Four – the story without end', and he turned to his companion with a questioning gaze. "It's called this way, because of who they're," she explained the second part of the name "but if you ask me, the legends-bit is there, since most of it's nothing more than exactly that – tales, that more probably than not won't ever happen." He raised an eyebrow "It tells of the future as well, then?" and she nodded "Yet, don't pay any heed to that crap load - but you must definitely read about the Beginning and the Four Demons, 'cause if _**that**_ one weren't true, we wouldn't be standing here today…"

She laughed slightly at that last, familiar sarcasm, though very light, creeping in her tones. However, she was more than startled, even if her countenance betrayed nothing of it, when he suddenly cupped her face, bringing her closer, only for his husky voice to caress her ear "Would you read it for me?" but, despite the appeal of the idea, Laura shook her head "I'd leave that one to you – you _**are**_ literate after all, aren't you?" The manifestly mocking smirk she gave him naturally ticked the Dark Lord off immensely, yet it evaporated on the spot, as their banter was way too addictive for him to be truly angry at her. So, he instead sighed quietly "At least, that would also give me a more than obvious reminder to research this odd occurrence with my…appearance…"

Laura smacked him playfully on the arm "Don't tell me you're actually complaining about the whole thing! Though, I should be surprised, if you did." She rolled her eyes "Men! You can be more vain than we women ever were!" which, to his total shock, made Voldemort chuckle slightly. 'Vain' and himself were usually two words, that Slytherin would sooner start detesting snakes, than they'd come together in the same sentence. However, when he turned to his companion intent on sharing the thought, he found she had already Apparated out of his arms and onto her broom, a mischievous grin playing on her lips, as she called to him "Race you to the castle! And don't forget the book!" before she sped away, leaving him unable to catch his breath, and more than unsure why it was so…

* * *

Watching…it was becoming a habit he noticed – and not a very healthy one either; yet he couldn't help it, even after all the years spent amongst the most unpredictable youths in Europe, and the firm belief that he had seen almost all life could offer. Because, when it came to the pair he had just caught a glimpse of, as they shared another stolen moment, holding each other away from prying eyes, he found himself in too foreign a territory. But he still couldn't keep from wondering why _**they**_ tried their inhuman best to remain oblivious to all that bound them together. For, the poison of pain they shared was too excruciating for them to overcome so easily, yet ironically, each had found its alleviation, and perhaps even full healing only in the other.

Riddle scorned all emotion, and deep beneath the happiness she did start feeling again, Laura's soul still remained gloomy, closed to the outside world, after what had happened last time she had dared open it. However, against all logic and odds, she had caused him to lay down his walls, and he had reached right into her very core. And as peculiar their relationship, or lack thereof, was, the Headmaster's observance skills never missed the signs, that spoke clearer than words could ever hope to. Both fought it vigorously, hiding behind pretences and fake indifference, as their pride was too strong. Both were prisoners of the same cold, yet they would rather stay dead inside, that succumb to the only possibility for them to break away.

However, they would yield in the end - it was something they led a losing battle against, since the fact that neither was ready to accept it, didn't mean the connection between them would disappear. For, they were different – darker, deeper than the rest, two souls that had been ripped apart from the dawn of time. And the immortal threads that bound them ran in their blood itself, reaching through the centuries, only for each to find their essence's missing piece right here, on the Island of Thunder and Lightning.

Yet, that observation seemingly wasn't lost to all of the others either, since, whether by reason of their relations, or their effects on each other, young Laura and her dark companion had quickly conquered Durmstrang all over again. Did they even know just how many gazes, the whole spectrum of sentiments reflected in them, were eagerly pinned on them two, every single time both happened to be in the same place? Perhaps it was a query to which none of the observers would ever get a reply, yet Heinrich Van Dyin was still well aware that ignorance was a trait, the pair in question conspicuously lacked, when it came to anything, that didn't involve their relations with one another.

However, it didn't really make a difference in the end, for the two belonged invariably to that category of people, who couldn't care less what the world thought or said about them. Some may have considered this a sign of arrogance, yet to the Headmaster of Durmstrang it held the status of a virtue. For, after all, said quality had helped bring him amongst the living. Or his mother would have never told her scheming family to go to hell, even as they had disowned her, and got together with the infamous "Undying Dutchman", and distant cousin of the Navards, Willem Van Dyin. So, Heinrich himself wasn't one to judge relations easily, giving both staff and students the freedom to couple with whoever their heart took them to. He only provided good advice, and interfered if they were in real danger, but other than that, they had the final word in the matter. And he was dead-sure most of them were now talking only good about him. Plus, it had aided him in witnessing almost all there could be said about matters of the heart…until these two, infuriatingly obstinate individuals had shown him that he still had stuff to learn.

Yet, for some reason, despite his more than accepting disposition towards their attachment, he had found himself somehow bothered by Laura's choice. He couldn't explain why, as he had more than readily met her liaison with the Northern Clans' Grand Master, who had been no less dangerous than the dark wizard, whose solitude she had taken to sharing. So, this sudden sensation haunting him, simply couldn't be worry – after all, she had on many occasions shown Riddle that she wasn't one to be toyed with, and he had taken these to heart. Then what was this feeling, taking over every fragment of him, every instance he happened to witness one of their moments of peace, telling him they weren't supposed to occur, that he had to stop this?

He had naturally shrugged it off continually, yet it was still there at the back of his mind, threatening to assault him again at each opportunity. And as he was getting increasingly preoccupied by it lately, even in that same moment as he walked to Professor Linecker's office, he didn't notice he had stopped by the doors leading to the kitchens. Nor did he realise, till he felt its warmth on his fingers, that something was being placed in his hands. And so, he nearly dropped the object, startled by its abrupt presence, and that of the man who had given it to him – not that the latter was entirely unexpected.

"What you asked for, Heinrich." the Potions Master gave his long-time friend a knowing smirk "But this time, make sure you _**do**_ take it regularly," he went on, indicating the glass canister he had just thrust in the Headmaster's hands, all too familiar with the other man's frustratingly stubborn refusal to take medicine of any kind "otherwise they'll be recurring." Van Dyin nodded gratefully, mirroring the other man's expression "I know better that to expect any different from our resident, overzealous Healer." but he bit his lip, after he had brought the concoction to his nose, which couldn't help twitching unpleasantly.

"This smells foul!" he grumbled, and the pale-skinned Potions Professor smirked "I've added some special ingredients, following a new recipe of mine, for extra potent effect." his grin widened "And you thought blood was bad." The Headmaster rolled his eyes, yet unwilling to miss their usual banter "_**That**_ was a one-off thing, Armand, and do you _**have**_ to still rub it in my face - as you're well aware, it was my first time, and I haven't had a problem with it for over a century." Linecker, though, returned with a lopsided grin "Well, of course I must remind you – just in case you got a sudden vibe to starve yourself by going back to only normal food."

His eyes, however, then grew serious, as he spoke somewhat dejectedly "Do you have any regrets…?" and Van Dyin shook his head with a smile "For choosing to pass on from Nocturnal to Twilight, rather than stay human?" his black eyes radiated with a glint, typical only for the night creatures, whose blood ran in them both "Never have – and never will…" He paused, a distant, reminiscing gaze glazing over his features, before his voice broke the silence again "Because, we did it for the right reasons, my friend – and there's no cause for it to come back to haunt us… Otherwise, if we, like many others, hadn't made sure we commanded our full potential, Grindelwald would have destroyed much more than he did. That Dumbledore defeated him once, however that was because he was weakened from something. But then he somehow managed to restore, and even augment his power, before went for Scarlet Shadow and Fire Heart. I tell you, something fishy happened with him…"

The younger man sighed for a seemingly eternal moment, until he replied "Indeed… We both know he dabbled in things far too dangerous, for anyone but the select few to handle…though, we never learned just how deeply he had got into these – but, I guess, at least we could be grateful he didn't succeed in his endeavours…" yet Van Dyin's gaze suddenly flashed with an odd flicker, as he muttered hoarsely, lips quirking slightly upwards "But he did…" before he caught his once more throbbing head in his hands. However, the other wizard, who hadn't caught that single phrase, only eyed him puzzled "Pardon?" though, he simply shrugged it off as the result of his faulty hearing, as he saw his friend's gesture, and his look melted into a well-known, unrelenting stare "That's it, you _**will**_ drink the draught, even if I have to shove it down your throat, if you really wish to rid yourself of those headaches – that is, until I figure out their source."

Van Dyin snorted "I happen to unfortunately know it." he shook his head with a knowing grin "Who would have thought that three days in HQ would help me catch a migraine? No wonder though, you know how Kael is – always wanting to relax together for old times' sake. Still, I should have definitely avoided talking with that ambassador afterwards – it fried my brain worse, than our dear Minister's affinity for entertainment at the most inopportune moments was ever able to." The Potions Master's expression, however, hadn't lost its seriousness, as he furrowed his brow in contemplation "I'm not as sure as yourself that this is the reason – it strikes me as really odd, since, like all possessing more than a quarter of Twilight heritage, you are exceptionally healthy."

Van Dyin simply patted his friend's shoulder with a resigned grin "A Nocturnal with a constant headache? Now, that is a first… Though, if there's anything that could help relieve said atrocity, it certainly is your art," he took another, even more disgruntled, peek at the potion "even if this one of its specimens can kill me beforehand with the horrible smell it gives off." The younger man rolled his eyes "You'll live - honestly, you're so prone to complaining, that sometimes I wonder whether we truly have a Headmaster, or one of the students is playing pretend." Before said man had the chance to answer him though, he spotted a certain, red-haired witch at the other end of the corridor, whilst her companion was giving her palm a light kiss, as she waved him goodbye.

Linecker was about to question him, regarding his sudden change of expressions, but Van Dyin only smiled apologetically at him, muttering a "Sorry, Armand, but I have to go – urgent business." and then disappeared, leaving a resignedly signing Potions Master with a full canister of ache-relief draught in his hand. He, though, knew better than to try chasing after the other man right then, since he now recalled that Heinrich had some news for young Laura Snape, which couldn't exactly wait. So, he decided to drop the matter for the time being, yet a certain Headmaster was definitely in for at least some weeks of the potion, when he did finish his duties, as he wasn't going to be let off the hook that easily.

However, his errant friend didn't have even the slightest idea of what was brewing about him, having almost run after Laura when he had seen her, since he needed to share the information she had asked him about the night before. Yet, by the time he managed to catch up with her, she was already on the fourth floor, about to enter her dorm, and thankfully – by now alone. Apparently having noticed him, she paused outside the door, a small smile creeping up her lips "To what do I owe the honour, Professor?" Van Dyin simply shook his head with a grin of his own "We are past those already, my child," his reddish-black eyes flickered with parental affection "or have you forgotten who's your foster father?" And to his delight, the young woman couldn't stop her laughter at this "Well, you have a whole school of children, why should I be paid any special attention?"

He sighed meaningfully, raising a humorous brow "I'm trying to give enough of it to all my 'offspring', so why should you be excluded?" The joking effect of him answering her question with another wasn't lost to her, nor was the sincerity of the meaning behind his words. And that last she truly appreciated, though Laura, being Laura, showed it very rarely on the surface. However, like all her important people, the Headmaster knew her well enough already. In fact, she was often amazed by how thoroughly he got to know every single one of them, teachers and students alike – and all he needed for it was simply some time.

Yet, before she could enjoy the relaxed atmosphere that has settled around them, his eyes grew dim, and she immediately sobered up, aware that what was to come wouldn't be pleasant. And true to her perceptions, he spoke in a low voice, treads of sadness entwining in its tones "This month's 'session' is already scheduled – for Saturday…" Laura, however, felt nothing but ice sliding through her veins at that, her coldness settling over her features even more pronouncedly than usual. And she replied in a clear tone, each word cutting like a dagger at the older man's insides.

For, he was punished with the grim fate of having to witness this particular reaction of hers on a regular basis – and it hurt him to watch any of his children in pain, Laura in particular. Because, though each of them had their own tragedy, these had all ended at one time or another, and they were allowed to move on. She, by contrast, was cursed with one that was still continuing, and even he didn't know, if there was a way for her to finally liberate herself of its, of _**his**_ clutches. For, both her family and himself had made sure every possibility was researched, each option discussed and weighed, yet nothing had worked. In fact, Laura, with the painful insight of the one who knew the situation best, had told them it would be this way, even before they had started trying. But after all, he thought with a mirthless smile, hope died last…though hers had never been born to begin with…

So, all they could do was attempt to at least ease her pain, glaringly aware no one could heal it completely. Navard had tried…and it had got him killed. And the Headmaster couldn't help hoping that this new chance…that Riddle wouldn't end up this way too. Not when, even though he wasn't the best opportunity, he was showing signs of possibly succeeding in what no one else had ever been able to – completely reaching Laura's self… Instead of pondering it any further however, he whispered, his eyes downcast "You will have the Monday off as usual, of course, but…why do you insist going on with this, why do you do this to yourself…? It won't bring them back…"

Yet, he knew that was an idiotic question to ask, just like his last phrase had been the worst thing to say. So, he wasn't at all surprised to meet her steely gaze, burning with suppressed anger, however not directed at him. Nor were the words that left her cold lips unexpected, for he knew that, despite its twisted logic, that single sentence held one of life's greatest truths – and ironies "Because, it actually does make me feel better…"

And he closed his eyes, realisation that this wasn't for him to change, coursed avidly through him, while he put in lastly "You won't be going alone this time, I presume, not with the recent developments. And I'm sure you're privy to the latest events as well…" and her brief nod only solidified his suspicions, the sensation from before returning, his head spinning wildly "Just make sure that your companions don't get into trouble, Laurie – and that young Mister Länder is not seen during his endeavour…" And all she could do was smile, as he swept her in a fatherly hug, yet unable to dismiss a strange desire to ensure that the other, the unmentioned one of her co-travellers, wouldn't return…

* * *

A/N2: Comments? Questions? I'm here for them all...


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